


Spies and Assassins

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 66,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgive me folks. I accidentally deleted my entire story.<br/>Re-posting. So any kind souls that had responded with feedback, kudos, etc. Would you mind please putting your names back up here?<br/>Many thanks!</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*Royal Palace, early afternoon*

"How the hell did those malandrins and canailles get this far?" Porthos yelled out as he and his brothers fought to defend their king, whom Captain Treville made sure was under heavy guard and safely tucked away in another part of the palace when the fighting commenced.

"I do not know, but I am quite sure Treville will be reading the riot act to all of us later for this gross miscalculation," Athos shouted back as he parried a thrust from his opponent's blade. While Athos's attention was focused on what was in front of him, he didn't see the other malandrin coming from the rear, ready to stab him in the back with a very sharp poignard.

Amidst all the chaos, there suddenly was a blur of motion as a lone figure ran across the buffet tables to somersault in the air over the malandrin's head and land squarely in front of the canaille, ending with a mighty sword thrust to the man's chest.

Clapping his hands, Aramis grinned. "Now that's the way to make an entrance!" Glancing at Athos's questioning gaze, Aramis indicated for his friend to turn around. "This one just saved your life."

When Athos twisted around he only saw a boy, no older than perhaps eighteen years of age, canter his head to the side and raise his rapier in a cocky salute to Athos. Then with a toothy grin the lad took off in another direction to lose himself in the fighting that still progressed.

Puzzled, Athos glanced back at Aramis's amused expression. "Perhaps later you would be so kind as to tell me how that boy accomplished such a feat." Athos looked down at the floor and noticed the dead man staring up at him with unseeing eyes. His rescuer had clearly dispatched this rogue without Athos realizing he had been that close to death.

"You right owe that whelp your life, Athos," Porthos told him. He had admired the style in which the younger man had rescued one of his closest friends.

"If I see him again he will have my gratitude." Then frowning, Athos squinted into the crowd. "Have either of you ever seen that youngster before?"

"Non," Aramis shook his head as he kicked out at another malandrin who dared to challenge him, knocking the assailant's feet out from underneath him making the malandrin collide with another of the canailles. It was a most comical sight as the one falling managed to bring the other one down with him.

"You do nice work, Aramis," Porthos grunted as he elbowed another canaille hard in the head, rendering the malandrin unconscious. Seeing that Athos's attention was still on that boy who helped him, he grinned. "I never saw that whelp's face around here before either."

"He reminded me of someone." Athos would think upon this at a later date, as for now there were more important matters to attend.

++++

*Later that same day - King Louis's private rooms*

"Well done, d'Artagnan," Louis congratulated his young friend. "I don't believe anyone's saved Athos in such a spectacular fashion before." Though he hadn't had the privilege of seeing what had transpired, having been secreted away, Jean-Armand had later boasted of what their boy had done.

"Can I be assigned to them yet?" d'Artagnan huffed, swiping at a piece of his long, brown hair that flew into his eyes. He was slightly annoyed at both Louis and Jean-Armand, having asked that very same question since he was sixteen years of age.  
"I've just officially commissioned you yesterday on your eighteenth birthday, d'Artagnan," Louis exchanged a brief look of frustration with Jean-Armand, "I am more than a little weary of hearing you ask that same question of me."

"You two had promised me when it was time...," d'Artagnan lowered his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. They couldn't possibly go back on what they had both led him to believe would be his in the end. They just wouldn't do that to him. Not after all he had done for Louis and France.

"That's if they accept you, my lad" Jean-Armand reminded d'Artagnan. He knew the youngster would be heartbroken if the inseparables turned their back on d'Artagnan. But he wasn't a fortune teller and therefore didn't know how his best soldiers would react to the youngster's request. After what the boy had done for Athos just now, Jean-Armand thought that perhaps they would give d'Artagnan a small amount of their time and consider letting the young man join their unit.

Snapping his head back up, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed. "l take matters into my own hands and seek them out. Then I'll make the appropriate introductions myself and see how it goes from there," he bit his lower lip. "Even if I have to prove myself to them before they extend their friendship to me."

"Ever since you were only eight years of age when Jean-Armand and I found you on that lonely stretch of road to Gascony, where your parents had been killed by cut-purses, we've been responsible for your welfare." Louis placed a comforting hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder. "You are my ward and very dear to me and have become precious to my lady Anne as well."

"And I love you like my own," Jean-Armand added gruffly, old war horse that he was. This child had come into their lives when he was a much younger man in charge of keeping a fifteen year old Louis in line. With Louis father being dead, the young king took it upon himself to make d'Artagnan his ward. In so doing that, Jean-Armand took the boy into his heart as well. D'Artagnan had never let either of them down with their love and trust in him. "There is nothing left for you to prove."

"To neither of you perhaps,"d'Artagnan shrugged Louis's hand off as he stared into the distance. His long hair half covered his face as he bent his head. "But I will have to show the inseparables that I can handle anything they can dish out,"d'rtagnan was more than confident in his own abilities and was prepared to take on all comers. "Perhaps even surpass their own efforts," he winked at Louis and Jean-Armand before he took off in search of his destiny.

++++

*Garrison courtyard*

"Yon hero approaches, mon fre're," Aramis chortled to Athos while the latter sat cleaning his harquebus until it was clean as a whistle.

"Bon jour," d'Artagnan greeted the group of Musketeers that were seated at a beat up wooden table. Casually he perched one foot upon the end of the bench seat as d'Artagnan leaned forward. His observant eyes took in everything around him not missing a thing, even that tiny bird that decided to perch itself on top of Aramis's hat. Wondering if he should point that out to the cavalier, d'Artagnan decided against it since Aramis's two other friends seemed content to let it be. "I am glad to see you all survived the attempt on Louis's life earlier today."

Immediately stepping forward, Athos extended his hand. "I hear it is because of you that I am still walking around breathing Paris's fresh air," he dipped his head. "My thanks. I am in your debt." It didn't escape Athos's keen eyes that the lad was wearing a brand new, shiny pauldron on his shoulder. But he and the others hadn't attended any recent inductions and wondered where this child had sprouted from.

"Fresh air?" Porthos snorted. "Where's that to be found in Paris?" Aramis just snickered and set out his own weapons to clean.  
Smiling at the large Musketeer's comment, d'Artagnan took Athos's proffered hand," he smiled shyly, ducking his head. "Just doing my job."

"Oui," Aramis piped up. "What would that be exactly?" he titled his head, watching the boy carefully. "I have never seen you around before."

"I lived in the shadows of the palace,"d'Artagnan offered. "You weren't meant to notice me," he gave them a sly look, "unless I wanted you too." He tried very hard not to laugh as that little bird twittered about on the handsome Musketeer's hat.

"Eh now," Porthos winked at the lad, "yer sounding more like me than these two dainty boys by my side."

"You're not too far off the mark," d'Artagnan's eyes danced. "I'm also known to those that live in the Court of Miracles as you are, Porthos, and count Flea among a number of my friends there," he admitted. D'Artagnan could see that piece of surprising information flummoxed Porthos, as the Musketeer's mouth fell open. "Careful, people have been known to catch flies that way," he laughed lightly.

"I like this young one's sense of humor," Aramis chuckled as he finished cleaning his pistol, putting it aside to do the same to his musket, but he paused in his task as the boy started laughing and pointing his way. "Do I have something on my face that amuses you so?"

"Only a wee birdie dancin' on your hat, Mis," Porthos winked and watched his friend remove his hat to stare in fascination at the tiny creature.

Amusing as it was watching Aramis study the petite bird, Athos needed to clear up a few things in his mind where this young one was concerned. "You mentioned living in the palace and have just referred to our king with much familiarity," Athos admitted to himself that his curiosity was more than a little peaked. "Are you a relation of his then, if I am allowed to ask?"

Quirking his lips, amusement reflected on d'Artagnan's face as he countered with a question of his own. "I was thirteen years of age when you three joined the regiment," he waited for that to sink in for a moment.

Ever impatient to hear the details, Aramis interrupted the exchange. "You told us that we'd only have seen you if you had let us," he had been wondering what the lad had meant by that.

"Oh I was around the palace quite a bit," d'Artagnan commented wryly. "It didn't pay to make myself known to you the older I grew for various reasons."

"Wait a minute," Aramis exclaimed waving a finger in the air, nearly bouncing off the bench. "You're the one!"

"What?" Both Porthos and Athos looked at their friend strangely, profoundly feeling left out of the picture. The conversation had somehow veered away from trying to find out if this youngster was related to the king, to whatever it was that had gotten Aramis so excited.

"A few years ago someone attacked me near my apartment when I was in my cups," Aramis reluctantly admitted to everyone. "My throat would have been slit for the few coins I had if it hadn't been for a well placed poignard coming out of the blue to strike my attacker in the neck." Aramis spared a brief glance at Athos and Porthos who seemed horrified that he had held back this information from them. Looking back at the young man, Aramis shook his head. "I saw you there that night, drunk though I was, but come morn your face slipped from my mind."

“That was as it should be,” d’Artagnan murmured softly.

Placing his musket down on the bench top, Aramis got up and walked over to the boy. Tapping the youngster’s pauldron, Aramis asked the obvious question that had been on the tip of his tongue since this lad had joined them. “Who are you? Better yet… what are you?”

“That, mon ami,” d’Artagnan inhaled deeply, “is a complicated story.”

“Uncomplicate it for us,” Porthos ordered as he stood beside Aramis. He wanted answers to the many questions bouncing around in his own head. For he got the feeling they would soon be delving into murky waters and as he couldn’t swim, Porthos wanted to be prepared for anything.

“My name is Charles d’Artagnan and I am Louis’s ward. As well as also being quite close with your captain, Jean-Armand,” d’Artagnan could tell that his admission was the last thing the inseparables had expected to hear, going by the way the three men gawked back at him.

“Jean-Armand wasn’t yet Louis’s captain at the time but was his most trusted friend and protector,” d’Artagnan ran a hand through his hair in agitation. He was filled with the painful memories of that God awful day. Hating to dredge up the past, d’Artagnan knew these men needed to understand what made him tick.

“One day they found me on a road sitting beside the bodies of my deceased parents,” d’Artagnan closed his eyes, “I was only eight years of age back then. We were on our way back to Lupiac, Gascony when we were attacked by a party of bandits,” his throat threatened to close up and choke him as he remembered crying over his parent’s lifeless forms. “Louis, even though only fifteen at the time, and Jean-Armand became my guardians ever since.”

“Why haven’t we heard of this before now?” Athos wasn’t asking this boy because he didn’t believe him, he was genuinely puzzled as to why Captain Treville never informed them about d’Artagnan before.

“I was a carefully hidden secret. Being Louis’s ward I was offered all the privileges afforded to one of a higher station,” meeting with silence, d’Artagnan wasn’t sure if they fully believed his story as yet judging by their closed off expressions. “None of you were even part of the Musketeer regiment until much later as I mentioned earlier.”

“Still, why keep that knowledge from us? We’re His Majesties trusted soldiers.” Athos felt affronted that they had all been kept in the dark over this mysterious young man.

“We discovered I had certain talents, shall we say, that could be helpful to Louis,” he snorted softly. “My innocent looks could get me into and out of most situations that wouldn’t work for the average adult,” d’Artagnan grinned at the stunned looks he received. “It came in handy that Jean-Armand trained me in all manners of weaponry when I was old enough to start holding a blade,” he chuckled. “It got me out of a lot of tricky situations I can tell you that.”

“I have a healthy respect for the way you handle a poignard, mon ami,” Aramis grinned. "I'd tip my hat to you but as you can see it is otherwise occupied." He pointed at the table where his hat remained with the small bird firmly attached to it.

“I’m quite adept at anything you could throw at me,” d’Artagnan’s lips twitched at Athos’s raised brow. “It is not a boast I make lightly, gentlemen.”

“I did not take it for one,” Athos acknowledged, realizing there were many layers to d’Artagnan. One thing he couldn’t help but notice were d’Artagnan’s eyes. They had the look of a very old soul. He should know, Athos snorted to himself quietly, the *look* the lad tried to hide from all of them when they weren’t paying attention reminded Athos of his own secret torments.

“I had my eighteenth birthday yesterday and that was when Louis deemed me ready to receive my commission in recognition for all my prior service to him and France.”

“Without fanfare?” It didn’t seem right to Porthos that the lad didn’t have a celebration for such an honor. “No drinkin’ or fightin’?”

“None of us wanted that,” d’Artagnan replied flatly, least of all him.

"They didn’t want a light to shine on you,” Athos nodded, affirming what he already formulated in his own mind. “You were meant not to be seen or heard unless you wanted to be, as you said earlier.” Now he truly realized what d’Artagnan did and still does for King Louis. Those layers Athos thought of were just beginning to peel away.

Folding his arms, d’Artagnan watched Athos absorb the meaning behind his words. He wasn’t truly sure if Aramis and Porthos had caught on yet without d’Artagnan spelling it out for them.

“Well, whelp,” Porthos grunted, “do we call you Charles or d’Artagnan?”

“Or just,” Aramis smiled coyly, “*hey you*?”

“I prefer d’Artagnan, if you don’t mind.”

“It suits you,” Aramis glanced over at Athos who had become awfully quiet. “You dart in and out as you please around here like a will-o'-the-wisp.”

Aramis didn’t realize how accurate his remark was. D’Artagnan thought back to all those times he discovered secret passages within the palace to listen in on important conversations. Some that he had been asked to do, others that d’Artagnan had been curious about but forbidden to have knowledge of.

“D’Art!” Porthos shouted, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Athos grumbled, hearing Aramis’s muffled laughter beside him.

“I had only one request when I earned my pauldron and that was to work with all of you.” Waiting for the shoe to drop, d’Artagnan held his breath praying that the proverbial *shoe* didn’t land on his head.

“Why?” was Athos’s clipped response. He didn’t need this pup trailing at his feet. Not after losing Thomas. And this lad was younger than his brother had been when Thomas had died.

“I’ve watched you three for years,” d’Artagnan pursed his lips. “Hero worship is what Louis called it,” he grinned. “Jean-Armand called it suicide.” Porthos’s great bark of laughter at that had all the men smiling at each other, except Athos of course. That man’s dour expression could curdle one’s stomach if you'd let it and he wasn't about to let it bother him.

“I’m sure I didn’t misinterpret your innuendo earlier,” Athos said politiely, “but we are not in need of a spy and assassin in our group.”

“Athos!” Aramis and Porthos cried out in tandem, dismay colored their voices .

He knew Athos would be his hardest obstacle to overcome in becoming the fourth member in their tight-knit family. "What happened to your earlier words about being in my debt?" d'Artagnan reminded him. "Just paying the petite garcon lip service, eh?" he snorted as his temper was getting the better of him. “I am more than a capable Musketeer,” d’Artagnan announced in his own defense. “My other talents may prove of useful service to you as well.”

Feeling like he was up against a solid brick wall where Athos was concerned, d’Artagnan held up his hand to forestall further antagonistic remarks from the older Musketeer. Stabbing Athos with a penetrating look, d’Artagnan added, “My only crime, if you want to call it that, was in helping Louis rule France.”

He then slowly started to back away from the inseparables. “If that makes me unsuitable to become your brother-in-arms, so be it.” Feeling deflated, d’Artagnan’s shoulders sagged. Earlier he had such high hopes for a better outcome than this. About to depart d’Artagnan turned his back on them but hesitated when he heard Aramis speak up.

“Athos, I’m all for giving the lad a trial run,” Aramis wasn’t quite sure why his older friend was against this. “He did save my life after all,” he huffed. “And I'll keep pestering you about being in d'Artagnan's debt as well if I have too."

Then a cultured, authoritative voice prevented d’Artagnan from taking any further steps away when he pivoted on his heels to face Athos again.

Glowering at d’Artagnan, Athos’s frustration was at an all time high, seeing how his other two brothers wanted this boy to be part of them. “You may be the king’s ward and a favorite of Treville’s, but you will listen to everything we say if I am to agree to this.”

Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, d’Artagnan’s thumbs were hooked in his weapon’s belt as he observed Athos’s ire. His own brown eyes locked with a stern pair of blue ones, and d’Artagnan couldn’t help the next words that escaped him. “I’ll grow on you,” his lips twitched, “I promise.”

“Mon dieu!” I really am losing my mind!” Athos shook his head at the younger man and wondered what they were heading into together. He made one last ditch effort to get out of all this. “King Louis and Treville wish for this?" Athos still thought this was an insane idea.

"Asking or telling me, Athos?" D’Artagnan felt like he was fighting for his very life and perhaps he was. This had been his dream ever since d’Artagnan had started shadowing the trio when he was much younger.

"Asking?"

"I wish it," d'Artagnan remained still as stone. “Does that make a difference?”

"Trial basis," Athos bit out roughly. This was still against his better judgment, but when he glanced over at Aramis and Porthos’s pleased faces, Athos didn’t have the heart to put up a fight any longer. "Then we will see."

Hoping one day to truly call them all brothers, d’Artagnan offered Athos a bashful smile. "I really will grow on you,” he repeated earnestly, giving Athos an adorable puppy dog look.

"That's what I'm dearly afraid of," Athos grumbled quietly to himself as he left to talk to Treville.


	2. Chapter 2

  


*Louis’s State Room*

“I’m plagued with fears for my life as you very well know, d’Artagnan,” Louis flung himself into the nearest chair, curling up in it like a child, and appearing much as one as well. “I do not know why the people hate me so.”

“Do you want the honest to God’s truth?” D’Artagnan wasn’t so sure Louis could or would understand how the common people of Paris survived and under what conditions, unless his guardian wanted to live life as an ordinary man for a time to see… of which he highly doubted.

“Oui,” Louis had covered his face with a hand which he let drop in his lap to observe his ward.

“You live in a glass bubble which could oh so easily be cracked by a well aimed musket whenever you ride in your fancy coach down the streets of Paris and wave at the crowds,” d’Artagnan sat down himself now. “Some of those citizens are well placed greeters that are seemingly happy and pleased to see you.”

Uncurling himself from his near fetal position, Louis seemed distressed at the picture d’Artagnan’s words painted. “What aren’t you saying?”

“To pay for those wonderful ships you want built you’re taxing your people to death,” d’Artagnan felt frustration well up inside him. “I go out among them,” he remarked sharply, earning a slightly baffled look from Louie, “not you. I see families that are starving. Doing anything they can to earn a crust of stale bread.” Turning his back on his guardian, d’Artagnan counted to ten.

“Why hasn’t Cardinal Richelieu mentioned anything to me on this before?" Louis asked, overwhelmed at the news d’Artagnan imparted that was still flitting through his head. It disturbed him greatly. 

Facing Louis once more, d’Artagnan’s face was set as he watched his guardian get out of his chair. “Seems this is my day for telling you home truths.”

“I feel I should have a stiff drink to steady my nerves for this but,” Louis waved his hand in the air, “do press on,” he remarked dryly.

“Cardinal Richelieu does have France’s interests at heart,” d’Artagnan’s lips curled in a near snarl. “His heart, that is, for his own gainful profit.” He walked over to Louis’s side as his guardian’s shoulders began to droop. “Richelieu doesn’t care how high the taxes go as long as France still stands strong and His Eminence’s pockets are kept lined.”

“Jean-Armand tried to tell me something similar a long time ago, but I dismissed his ramblings on the issue.” Louis placed an arm across d’Artagnan’s shoulder and pulled his ward in for a hug. “Now I have my answer why there’s an assassin hiding around every corner taking aim at me lately.”

“And on that note, I understand I am to visit the Court on your behalf,” d’Artagnan stepped away from the tight embrace. “I am to assume it has to do with why you brought up the topic of assassinations.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't worry myself so,” Louis grimaced, "but Jean-Armand had been hearing rumors of late on another conspiracy to murder me,” he sighed deeply. “We both thought your connection to Flea and your other contacts there would be of benefit to me.” Louis began to pace the room. "I'm wondering if I should place spies among the cardinal's people while I'm at it."

"That's actually not a bad idea, Louis," d'Artagnan tilted his head to the side as he contemplated Richelieu being spied upon. He liked the idea very much but could tell Louis was torn over the matter. "You can always decide on a course of action later in dealing with His Eminence," he suggested.

Chuckling, Louis gazed at the boy before him. "Not much love lost between you two is there, d'Artagnan?"

"I gained the impression that I was nothing more than a thorn in Richelieu's foot from the moment you and Jean-Armand took me into your hearts," d'Artagnan smiled.

"And you're an even bigger *thorn* now that you've earned your commission in the Musketeers and not in the cardinal's Red Guards as I know Richelieu had hoped for," Louis suddenly stopped his pacing to study a painting on the wall. "I always thought he wanted you under his watchful eyes but I could never understand why before until your words to me today, d'Artagnan."

“Well enough talk about the cardinal for today," d'Artagnan muttered. "There's something I need to ask of you," he hesitated but only for a moment. "I know it is not normally a done thing,” d’Artagnan held his guardian’s eye, “but this time may I bring along Porthos?”

Thoughtful, Louis wondered what was behind the request. “Oui, usually when I have call to involve you in my political intrigues I trust you to work alone,” staring at d’Artagnan with curious eyes Louis waited to see if the boy would explain himself.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was for my own protection?” Seeing Louis shake his head no, d’Artagnan stiffened slightly. “Didn’t think so,” he mumbled quietly. “It was worth a shot anyway.”

“Porthos came from the Court of Miracles himself,” Louis stated as he remembered Treville remarking upon that one day to him. “Does he know Flea as well?”

“Perhaps better than I,” d’Artagnan admitted, keeping his fingers crossed that Louis was going to go along with what he wanted after all.

“Then take him by all means.” Louis went to stand by a window, pushing the curtains aside to stare out at the lovely landscaped gardens he had paid a high price to keep maintained. “There is one more thing.”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan tilted his head to the side as he studied Louis’s dejected frame.

“You’ll be working with another operative of mine,” Louis let the curtain drop as he turned around.

“One I have no knowledge of?” d’Artagnan tightened his hands on his weapons belt instinctively.

“She’s been something of a mystery to me as well but has proven invaluable service to France in the past,” Louis walked over to a table and poured himself and d’Artagnan a glass of wine each. Holding the drink out to the boy, Louis’s smiled for the first time. “Her name is Milady and she’ll make herself known to you sometime later after your arrive at the Court.”

“Interesting,” d’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled at the thought of meeting this woman, as he relished the taste of his wine.

“Ah! There’s that look,” Louis laughed. “Do not even go there, d’Artagnan.”

“Sorry?” d’Artagnan acted confused. “I thought I was.”

“I wasn’t referring to the Court, silly boy,” Louis dipped a finger into his wine glass. “I meant don’t get your hopes up about Milady. For one thing she’s much too old for you.”

“An older woman can teach a younger man who doesn’t have that much experience a great deal,’ d’Artagnan teased.

“Inexperienced?” Louis pretended shock. “Is that what you are now, chiot?” he grinned at the youngster’s scowling face.

“I think I shall take my leave before my self esteem falls down around my feet,” d’Artagnan shook his head, lips pursed as he gazed fondly at his guardian. “Think upon what we discussed earlier about the taxes and your people. Perhaps you could find a way to be charitable enough to lessen their burdens.” Leaving Louis with those words, d’Artagnan gave him a cheeky smile as he departed.

++++

*Next day, late morning - Captain Treville’s office*

“Ah, Porthos, come in,” Treville waved the huge Musketeer inside the room.

“Where’s d’Artagnan?” Porthos didn’t see the boy in the office. He thought he was to meet the pup here.

“D’Artagnan’s getting both your horses ready.” Treville stood up, only to lean forward placing the palms of his hands on the desk. “The boy doesn’t need a bodyguard, we all know that, but I’m asking you this as a favor to a friend,” Treville straightened up. “Watch his back for him this time.”

“Eh, the whelp doesn’t know you’re askin’ this of me, does he?”

“Non,” Treville shook his head. “He’s meeting someone unknown to him there. I’ve never completely figured out whose side she’s on, but Milady’s help has seen Louis and I through some difficult situations.”

“Aye! No harm will come to d’Artagnan as long as I’m still breathin’.”

“My thanks,” Treville nodded. “Better go before d’Artagnan gets suspicious.”

++++

*Garrison courtyard*

“Mind you,” Aramis chuckled as he patted Zad’s nose, “take good care of Porthos for me.”

"Are you talking to Zad or to me?" d'Artagnan winked at Athos who was standing off to the side. Hand on his heart, d’Artagnan's face became serious. “On my honor, I swear to protect Porthos to the best of my abilities." Gazing down into Aramis's amused face, d'Artagnan stroked Zad's mane to keep his fingers busy.

“If you have need of us, please send word,” Athos looked directly into the boy’s eyes. Yesterday when he and the lad sparred, they had indeed shared different techniques that would benefit them both in their abilities. This young man had impressed him sooner than Athos had expected. Those layers he thought about kept peeling away from d’Artagnan. Athos enjoyed what they’ve revealed so far.

“My thanks for the generous offer but as it stands, myself and another stranger is more than enough to enter into the Court at one time,” d’Artagnan then spotted Porthos heading their way and waved the man over.

“I see you’re not sporting your shiny, new pauldron,” Aramis noted with a frown on his handsome features.

“And neither will Porthos,” d’Artagnan stated firmly. “You should know that Musketeers or any figure of authority are not welcome there.”

“You weren’t a Musketeer until a few days ago,” Athos pointed out. Not sure he liked the idea of them not going in with what little protection the wearing of their pauldrons afforded them.

“And that’s to my credit, Athos,” d’Artagnan gazed into the man’s concerned blue eyes. “No one will ever know I became one except Flea. I owe her too much not to be honest with her about that.”

“I’ll vouch for Flea’s integrity,” Porthos voiced as he joined them, mounting Roulette with ease. He caught the last part of their conversation and silently agreed that part of him felt naked not wearing his pauldron. But he understood the reasons for it.

“Just be careful,” Athos’s gazed slipped past Porthos to rest on d’Artagnan's youthful face. Hearing the boy snort, Athos sighed. “What?”

“*Careful*,” d’Arta gnan repeated while grinning at Porthos. “Have to admit that word’s not in my vocabulary.” With a jaunty salute to both Athos and Aramis, d’Artagnan headed out of the garrison with Porthos riding abreast.

“I feel so much better upon hearing that,” Athos commented wryly. Feeling a hand on his shoulder Athos was surprised that someone had come up from behind him and he had not even noticed, though he gave himself the excuse of being somewhat pre-occupied with other matters. Turning his head to the side, Athos encountered the gaze of his captain.

“It’s hell to be left behind,” Treville’s eyes followed d’Artagnan until the boy was out of his line of sight.

“They’ll be fine,” Aramis stood in front of both men. “Seriously, with d’Artagnan’s experience in the Court and Porthos having grown up there... what could go wrong?” Having both men turn his way to give Aramis scathing looks, the romantic turned away muttering, "I'm under appreciated around here."

++++

*Court of Miracles*

Having left their mounts tied up at the entrance to the Court, d’Artagnan handed some coins to a grubby faced looking boy of about nine years of age. He knew Claude to be a somewhat trustworthy child. “Now Claude, make sure no one takes off with our horses.”

“I’ll cut their throats if anyone tries any funny business with me, d’Art.” Claude grinned as he brandished his rather hefty knife in the air.

“Just don’t cut yourself with that first,” d’Artagnan teased. “It looks bigger than you are.”

As they strolled away and down the narrow paths of the Court, a small urchin ran up to d’Artagnan holding out her arms to him. “Again, Lissette?” He pretended to be annoyed with the petite one but smiled anyway as he picked her up to let Lissette ride on his shoulders.

“Quite the Pied Piper, *d’Art*,” Porthos snickered. “Like the nickname,” he grunted. “I may call you that myself.”

“Be my guest,” d’Artagnan grinned and when little hands covered his eyes, he huffed and pulled them away. “Really! I do need to see where I’m going, Lissette.” Hearing the child’s giggles made d’Artagnan feel good inside. There wasn’t much around here to laugh about. “Okay, this is where you get off, mon petite.” Giving her a gentle pat on the head and a few coins as well, d’Artagnan watched her skip away from them.

Leaning against a wall, d’Artagnan rapped twice, paused and rapped three more times to only pause again and finish with two more raps on a cracked wooded door. “Come out, come out, my love,” he crooned wickedly. Covering his mouth to prevent giggles from escaping him, d’Artagnan noticed Porthos’s fierce look.

Popping her head out from behind the door, Flea smiled and threw her arms in welcome around d’Artagnan’s neck. “Now ya know I’m much too old for the likes of ya, my sweet d’Art,” Flea pecked his cheek lightly.

“Ah! But an older woman, such as yourself, holds such promise for the likes of me,” d’Artagnan hugged her back and winked at Porthos over her shoulder.

“We go through this ritual nearly every time we meet.” Hands on her hips, Flea studied the lanky frame in front of her. “Ya don’t change much. Just a wee bit taller and that’s about it.”

“Ummm, Flea, I brought a friend along this time,” d’Artagnan indicated with his hand for her to turn around. When she did, Flea’s mouth fell open in shock. 

“Well ain’t ya a sight for these sore eyes, Porthos,” Flea scowled. “Slummin’ are ye?”

“D’Artagnan here was comin’ to see ya and he was kind enough to let me tag along,” Porthos explained gruffly. “Still as pretty as ever ye are.”

Watching the exchange between the two old friends, d’Artagnan felt like an interloper. “You guys can catch up on old times after I explain why I'm here.”

“What cha’ need, squirt,” Flea laughed as she ushered them inside her place.

“Louis’s paranoia is running away with him again,” d’Artagnan sighed. “But this time Jean-Armand told him there were rumors of another threat to kill Louis. What better place to come for information than here."

“I’ll put out feelers,” Flea said. “Personally, I haven’t heard anything so far.”

“Well Louis gave me enough coins for you to pay for your information, and there’s probably enough for you to pocket as well,” d’Artagnan smiled as Flea sashayed around the room.

“Ya know how ta treat a girl right, d’Art,” Flea blew a kiss at him.

Seeing the unnerving stare Porthos was treating him too, d’Artagnan became uncomfortable. “Uh, why don’t you two go ahead and get re-acquainted,” he scratched at some peach fuzz, as Louis loved to tease him on, that was finally growing on his chin. “I’ve got to make myself known to someone who calls herself Milady.”

“Be careful of her,” Flea warned. “She’d make a dangerous enemy if you don’t handle things right.”

“I’m counting on her becoming my dangerous ally,” d’Artagnan countered. That said, he left his two friends alone.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

*Captain Treville’s office*

Leaning one hip against Treville’s desk, arms folded casually, Athos appeared relaxed but he was anything but. “I’ve told d’Artagnan I’ll take him on a trial basis.” 

Chuckling, Treville’s eyes crinkled up at the corners. “What did my boy say to that?” 

“He would grow on me,” Athos admitted dryly. His mood did not improve when Treville started to laugh harder. “Is the lad really as good as *he* thinks he is?” 

“You tell me, Athos, since it was your life he saved today,” Treville dabbed at his eyes as tears leaked down his cheeks from laughing so hard. 

“Apparently I will not live that one down for quite awhile yet,” Athos straightened up, adjusted his doublet and walked to the door. As his hand touched the doorknob he hesitated and turned to look back at his captain. “D’Artagnan will not be treated any differently than any other fledgling addition to our regiment.” 

“The youngster would be the first to agree with your judgment,” Treville waved his lieutenant away and proceeded back to his own work. 

Halfway out the door, Athos’s back was turned away from Treville as he casually tossed over his shoulder, “I will expect him not to go running with complaints to his guardian, King Louis, if he doesn’t accept my treatment of him.”

Throwing his quill down, Treville leaned forward resting his arms on his desk, head hanging slightly. “You need not worry about royal repercussions falling down upon your head. D’Artagnan’s not the type to do something like that.” 

Not saying anything further, Athos quietly left Treville in peace. 

++++

*Garrison courtyard* 

Feeling Athos’s presence by his shoulder, Aramis smiled impishly. “I say, if you don't want the pup, I'll take him under my wing personally." Seeing Athos disbelieving look, Aramis placed his hands on his hips. "I'm quite serious," he huffed. "If I have to I'll adopt d'Artagnan." 

Eyebrow arched in question, Athos dipped his head slightly in such a way that his hat obscured most of his face from Aramis’s view. “The king may have an objection to that since he is the boy’s guardian," he sighed. "Then there's the fact you are not married. Therefore you cannot carry out an adoption." 

“Hmmpf!” Aramis scoffed. “Minor hiccups in the grander scheme of things,” he laughed gaily. 

“May I ask why you would be so inclined?” Athos joined Aramis in watching d’Artagnan and Porthos practice throwing their daggers at the assigned targets set up for them. 

“After you left I took up the pup’s challenge that he could do anything we would throw at him,” Aramis’s eyes sparkled with joy. “That youngster is as good as me with a musket or a harquebus,” he slapped his thigh. “I’ve never seen his like before and he’s only eighteen.” 

“I know you wouldn’t say anything like that lightly,” Athos commented. “It is high praise indeed.” He kept his own council for the moment while continuing to observe Porthos and the boy hit their targets dead center time after time.

“Porthos!” Aramis called out, “it’s a bit boring when neither of you miss!” 

Throwing a heavy arm around d’Artagnan’s young shoulders, Porthos pulled the boy’s head down and ruffled d’Artagnan’s hair. The whelp didn’t seem to mind as the child wore a silly grin on his face. 

“Can I keep im'?” Porthos barked and wondered why Athos glowered at him in that manner. “What I say was wrong?” 

“I’m here on sufferance only, Porthos,” d’Artagnan wasn’t obtuse. It hadn’t escaped his notice when Athos had joined them and how the man had studied every move d’Artagnan made. Finally fed up with Athos’s attitude, d’Artagnan yelled, “Want to get it out of your system, Athos!” 

“To what do you refer?” Athos pretended ignorance of what the pup meant. 

“You and I cross swords right here, right now!” D’Artagnan’s eyes darkened with an inner fire to prove himself to this man whom he long regarded as his hero while d’Artagnan was growing up in the palace. 

“You’ve had a rather eventful day, d’Artagnan. Could we put it off til tomorrow?” Athos really didn’t feel the necessity of testing the lad until it was more convenient for him to do so. As far as he was concerned, today was not that time.

Brushing past Athos, d’Artagnan felt the need to provoke the man into feeling something. “Scared, Athos?” 

“I haven’t known you very long, d’Artagnan, but I can tell you have a chip on your shoulder a mile wide,” Athos shot back. “Be careful someone more skilled than you doesn’t knock it off.” He could have kicked himself as Athos had not wanted the lad to goad him into anger but yet the boy had. Damn him! 

“If I hadn’t known you were a man of honor I’d say you just threatened a fellow Musketeer,” d’Artagnan sneered. “It’s not cockiness, I can assure you of that,” he spat. “I’m just confident in my abilities.” Seeing their audience of two, d’Artagnan gave Porthos and Aramis an elaborate bow. The two men were standing off to the side, out of the line of fire, and seemed highly amused at the front row seat they had. Glancing back at Athos, d’Artagnan gave the man one last parting shot. “I am not the amateur you seem to think I am.” Nodding to everyone, d’Artagnan lifted his head arrogantly and headed in the direction of the palace. 

“Ya know, I right forgot to ask the whelp if he needed help settlin’ into the barracks now that he’s one of us.” Porthos scratched his head as he kept his eyes trained on the boy. 

“I doubt the king would want d’Artagnan to leave his side right now. I believe the lad will still stay at the palace for the foreseeable future.” Athos remarked while watching d’Artagnan stop to talk to some of their fellow brothers. He was disturbed by the youngster on many levels, Athos just didn’t know which level to deal with first. 

++++

*Next day, on the road near Courbevoie* 

“Isn’t this rather a dull routine for Louis’s best soldiers to be carrying out?” D’Artagnan was surprised to find that the inseparables were sent to deliver a simple missive to a friend of d’Artagnan’s guardian. 

“You’ll eventually see for yourself that a Musketeer’s lifestyle isn’t all fightin’ and protectin’,” Porthos leaned over his horse to lightly pat the slightly disillusioned whelp on the leg. 

“Just seems to me Louis could utilize you three in a better manner than this,” d’Artagnan mumbled. 

“By all means, I’d love to hear you suggest that to His Majesty,” Athos knew his sardonic tone wasn't lost on the boy as d'Artagnan glared daggers back at him. 

Letting that dig slide, d’Artagnan glanced sideways at Athos. “Don’t forget our blade work when we get back to the garrison.” 

“How could I,” Athos grumbled. “You’ve only reminded me for the last several miles of our journey.” 

The retort on d’Artagnan’s lips died fast as a succession of shots rang out from the trees and fields they were passing by. 

“AMBUSH!” Aramis shouted as he and the others tried desperately to find cover from the musket fire. 

“I hate it when we get ambushed,” Porthos hollered at Aramis, seeing a grin spread over the handsome Musketeer’s face in anticipation of the coming fight. 

They all urged their horses toward the woods, hoping that the trees would give them better cover. But after they dismounted, to their chagrin, they discovered that it had been a bad decision on their part as they ended up being surrounded by a band of malandrins. So the fight began in earnest with swords slashing through the air, as the inseparables and d’Artagnan fought for their lives. 

Stepping over the body of a malandrin he had just killed, d’Artagnan bent down to remove his main gauche from the dead man’s throat. Assessing the area he wanted to see which of his brothers needed his help the most. Surprised, d’Artagnan found that it turned out to be Athos. The older Musketeer had taken on four opponents simultaneously. Immediately jumping to Athos’s side, d’Artagnan grinned. “You never learned to share, Athos?” 

A small smile tugged at Athos’s lips from the younger man’s jest. Sidestepping to his left, Athos made room for the boy to move. 

Watching them fight side by side, one wouldn’t know that the two men had never worked together before as d’Artagnan and Athos’s sword work mirrored each others almost perfectly as they cut and thrust their way through the four malandrins in front of them. 

“I’m losing count,” d’Artagnan shouted, slightly out of breath. “But now it appears there are five more to deal with.” He finished off another man and engaged two more that came running out of the woods at him. 

“Yes, they seem to be multiplying like rabbits,” Athos agreed as he brought down another malandrin with a sword thrust to his opponent’s stomach. 

After Aramis and Porthos cleverly dispatched their share of malandrins, they stood in awe as they observed the spectacle before them. 

“Think we should help em’?” Porthos held two muskets, one in each of his large hands, while Aramis brandished two rapiers. 

“Non,” Aramis’s eyes twinkled with delight. “I think they’re enjoying themselves too much.” 

When most of the malandrins had been killed off and the others had run away, d’Artagnan and Athos sheathed their swords as they approached their comrades. 

“Our thanks for your help,” Athos announced dryly. He afforded d’Artagnan a slight grin. “You, on the other hand are nearly my equal with a blade.” When he heard Aramis snicker, Athos glowered at his old friend. 

“*Nearly*, Athos?” Aramis clapped his hands. “Couldn’t you unbend just a little and admit d’Artagnan’s skill matched your own?” 

“If anything you could teach each other some useful tricks,” Porthos added, winking at the lad. 

"Might I ask where you learned to handle a blade in that manner?" Athos was astounded at the level of skill d'Artagnan had just shown them all. If he didn't know any better, Athos would have thought that the boy learned everything from him. But of course that was an impossibility. 

"Like I said," d'Artagnan gave them all a sly look, "I was around. You just didn't notice me." Nudging Athos in the shoulder, d'Artagnan smiled. "I watched all of you train, especially you, Athos." Placing his hand on the hilt of his pommel, d'Artagnan continued. "I studied your fighting styles... all of them." 

"But some things need to be put in practice," Athos was confused. "You didn't train with any of us." 

"Non, I did not," d'Artagnan agreed. "You forget though who my teacher was," d'Artagnan said with pride. "I badgered poor Jean-Armand to teach me in like manner." 

"So you're actually a combination of all three of us," Porthos felt humbled by this child's admiration of them. 

"God help us all!" Athos declared, much to the amusement of his brothers. 

"Well I'm ecstatic about it all," Aramis chortled. "Now I'm not the only sharpshooter in the garrison," he pointed to d'Artagnan. "More of me to go around." Walking over to the lad's side, Aramis clapped d'Artagnan on the back. “What do you think about our *dull routine* now?” 

“Exciting,” d’Artagnan’s laugh turned into a yelp as Porthos picked him up in the air to spin him around in a circle. “Porthos! Put me down! I’m getting dizzy!” 

“Aw! I can’t never have any fun,” Porthos pretended to be upset. “I have ta tell ya, kid, you weigh next to nothin’.” He looked at his friends and shook his head sadly. “We gotta get some chow into this one. Build some muscle on em’.” 

“I have muscles,” d’Artagnan defended, trying to look serious but failing as he started to laugh at the comical face Porthos pulled on him. 

“Then they must be hidin’ in places I can’t see em’,” Porthos continued to shake his head in despair. 

Muscles aside, Athos was curious about something quite obvious. “I do have one question for you that has been bothering me,” he tilted his head to the side as he studied the pup. “What is your aversion to wearing a hat?” 

Grinning, d'Artagnan walked toward Zad. “Ask me that after you’ve known me longer than a few days acquaintance.” 

Tipping his hat to the lad, Athos walked over to his own horse. After settling himself on Roger’s back, Athos waited for d’Artagnan to mount up. “After what I’ve seen you do here this day I see no need to test your skill further,” he admitted. “But I do put value in what Porthos said a few minutes ago. We could learn much from one another.” 

Amazed at Athos’s turnabout, d’Artagnan was momentarily bereft for words. 

“Cat’s got the whelp’s tongue all twisted right up,” Porthos guffawed as Aramis joined him. Both men mounted their own horses and drew up alongside their brothers. 

But Athos saw something reflected in d’Artagnan’s brown eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher. They were shimmering with what Athos thought looked like tears. Then the lad seemed to get his feelings back under control as d’Artagnan smiled at them. It transformed the youngster’s features into something akin to beauty. It was like the sun had come out to play on a warm summer’s day. Realizing that his thoughts were turning fanciful, Athos chuckled to himself. More like his brain had become addled from the heat as it was quite hot out, and they had just been fighting vigorously. 

“So when you said there was no need to assess my skill, did you mean we won’t be practicing when we get back?” d’Artagnan noted the way Athos’s blue eyes lightened up. 

“We will but I’m looking more on it as trading secrets,” Athos nodded at the boy, seeing d’Artagnan’s pleased expression. 

“Then let’s get this letter delivered as quick as we can,” d’Artagnan said. “After you and I have at it, I then have to report back to the palace as Louis needs to go over a matter with me.” 

“Something of great import?” Aramis asked. 

“I’m not quite sure,” d’Artagnan’s lightheartedness disappeared. “It’s something he needs me to investigate down at the Court for him. If anything it will be pleasant to see Flea and some of my other friends again.” 

“Like some company?” Porthos hadn’t seen Flea in awhile and wouldn’t mind tagging along with the whelp. 

“Perhaps another time, Porthos,” seeing the dark-skinned Musketeer’s face fall, d’Artagnan felt badly. “It’s just that when this pertains to something I’m looking into for Louis, I would need his express permission first if I were to bring another along with me.” 

“Even us?” Porthos wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. 

Trying to figure out how to delicately put this without hurting Porthos's feelings was difficult at best. “I’m a Musketeer now but I am also Louis’s,” d’Artagnan glanced sideways at Athos, “spy and assassin,” he sighed not sure they were going to understand. “I have to separate myself into two completely different individuals now.” 

“What you do for His Majesty doesn’t always fall under the dictates of the Musketeers,” Aramis nodded. “I wonder if the king realizes the position he has now put you in.” 

“It wasn’t his idea to begin with that I become a Musketeer, Aramis,” d’Artagnan admitted. “I know it was Jean-Armand’s though,” he chuckled. “Many a night I laid awake hearing them argue about it.” 

“Why would the king be so against you becoming one of us?” Athos was perplexed. The Musketeers were his most trusted soldiers, at least he used to think so. 

“As I said, Louis wanted me to solely do his private work for him with no other outside influence distracting me,” d’Artagnan explained. 

“Being a Musketeer is a mighty big distraction,” Porthos quipped, earning a beaming smile that lit up the pup’s face. 

“Anyway, I told Louis whenever he needed me I would always be there for him,” d’Artagnan’s face tightened fractionally. “I owe him much more than I could ever repay in this lifetime.” 

“Tell ya what, d’Artagnan,” Porthos whispered, not wanting his brothers to hear him, “can ya do me a favor and tell Flea I miss her?” 

“I’ll do better than that,” d’Artagnan announced softly as he had come to a quick decision, “I will gain Louis’s permission to have you come along. If I have to I’ll make up a story that I need a bodyguard.” Quiet as he and Porthos had been, apparently they were still overheard as d'Artagnan noticed the amused stares coming from Athos and Aramis. 

“You need a bodyguard like I need a hole in the head,” Aramis smirked. 

“I could oblige you with the *hole* if you’d like?” d’Artagnan’s eyes narrowed on the laughing Musketeer. 

“Now, now,” Aramis smiled, “no need to get testy.” 

“Gentlemen,” Athos interrupted, “you are forgetting the missive we are to deliver.” His blue eyes twinkled as he gazed at the boy and Aramis glaring at each other. “We are nearly at our destination, and if we take a quick break we could be back at the garrison within the hour,” Athos glanced at d’Artagnan. “Then you and I can work out in the courtyard for a time.” 

“And then,” Porthos grinned, “you shall tell King Louis of your need for protection when next you go to the Court.” 

“I’d love to be the fly on the wall during that conversation,” Aramis mused out loud. 

“Be careful, Aramis,” d’Artagnan warned, “there may come a time where I may have to drag you all into my line of work.” 

“When that happens we will gladly offer up our help,” Athos nodded. “For king, country and for you, d’Artagnan.” 

Hearing that declaration from the stoic Musketeer, gladdened d’Artagnan’s heart as he softly murmured the Musketeer motto he had always dreamed of saying. “All for one and one for all.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

*Court of Miracles*

“Ya look like ya swallowed something that didn’t agree with ya,” Flea poked Porthos in the stomach, enjoying the funny look he gave her. 

Rubbing his chin, Porthos grunted. “I’m supposed to be coverin’ the whelp’s back.” 

“Says who?” She put her hands on her hips, her stance defiant. “D’Art can well take care of himself.” 

“My captain, that’s who,” he snapped back. Getting angry with Flea wasn’t quite the way he wanted to go about his reunion with his old flame. 

“Trust me,” Flea snorted, “ya haven’t been with the lad when he’s in his gear armed to the teeth.” 

Porthos didn’t even pretend to understand what Flea meant as he decided upon his next course of action. 

Leading him by the hand, Flea guided him over to a small table and pulled out a chair. “I see some of us are up on things,” she gazed at him in sympathy, “and some of us aren’t,” Flea chuckled. “Sit a spell and perhaps by the time d’Art gets back here we can tell him we’re friends again.” 

“I never claimed we weren’t,” Porthos appeared hurt by her remark. 

“Haven’t seen ya these last few years,” Flea shrugged. “Thought ya forgot about me and the Court. What else was I ta think?” 

“I had my duty ta France first,” Porthos tried to excuse himself but knew it was poor at best. 

“And your *duty* ta your friends last, eh?” Flea frowned as she picked at a loose thread on her dress. 

Yeah, and there it was, Porthos thought. You didn’t turn your back on your friends the way he had and not expect some payback down the road. 

Hearing nothing but silence, Flea laughed lightly. “Awww, Porthos, Porthos, I did miss ya very much,” she flirted with him carefully, for Flea didn’t need another broken heart. 

++++

As d’Artagnan roamed the streets of the Court, he was greeted by nearly everyone he passed by. 

“Hey, d’Art,” Frederick called out. “Ya up fer a game of cards?”

“Perhaps on my next visit,” d’Artagnan smiled easily. “I’m attending to business at the moment.” 

“Yeah, all right,” Frederick grinned back. “I need to re-coop my pennies ya cleaned me out of last time.” 

Shaking his head, d’Artagnan remembered Frederick whining at him about his losses last time they played. "Who says the game won't end the same way?" As Frederick went on his way, d'Artagnan could hear the man's laughter. 

As d’Artagnan watched the older man leave, he was caught with his guard down as suddenly he felt the tip of a blade at the base of his neck. Holding both hands out in front of him, d’Artagnan slowly turned around to gaze into the face of a smirking woman. Milady had found him first it would appear, for it had to be her as the scent of Jasmine filled his nostrils. He doubted any other females of his acquaintance at the Court would greet him with a poignard in the back. 

Taking in her features, d’Artagnan was surprised at how lovely she appeared with her dark, wavy hair and luminous green eyes. Most definitely much older than him by at least ten to twelve years, give or take. “Milady,” d’Artagnan dipped his head. 

“About time… don’t you think so, d’Artagnan?” Milady rolled her eyes. 

“You say that like you had expected my presence prior to this meeting,” now he was utterly baffled at her unusual style of greeting. 

“The king and Treville have been quite stingy in keeping you to themselves,” she took in his youthful handsomeness and sighed. “Mores the pity it’s taken them this long to decide I wouldn’t eat you up.” 

“As if you could,” d’Artagnan snorted, sure of his own skills in self preservation. 

“Confidence has been many a man’s downfall,” Milady smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“And a woman’s as well,” d’Artagnan countered and watched her lift a brow high. “As nice as this is,” he smirked, “have you gathered any useful information on this alleged murder plot against King Louis?” He was so used to addressing his guardian as just Louis but not knowing her, d'Artagnan didn't want to use it so casually. 

Shaking her head no, Milady gazed warily at the people around them. “I’ve hit the streets of Paris as well as sniffed around here and have come up empty handed so far.” 

“It could be that it is just what it is... rumors,” d’Artagnan folded his arms, tucking his hands underneath his armpits. 

“Perhaps,” Milady licked her lips. “Next we meet I’ll see you at the palace instead of this place.” 

“You don’t like the Court, Milady,” he gave her a mocking smile. 

“The stench here is enough to turn my stomach,” she wrinkled up her nose and heard the boy’s light laughter. Her lips twitched, but Milady would not join this child in his fun. 

"The same could be said of some parts of Paris too," d'Artagnan tilted his head as he studied her expression. "Sometimes it's all you can do to remain upwind of the smell," he chuckled. “When I leave here I will later don another guise to roam the Parisian streets tonight,” d’Artagnan told her softly. “I’ll melt into the shadows where no one can see or hear me and I’ll listen for whispers on the wind.” 

“Treville mentioned your abilities to me and I quite envy them and your arsenal he boasted about.” 

“Only the very finest for me,” d’Artagnan jested with a shrug. “Louis is my guardian, what can I say?” 

“Perhaps the word is - *spoiled*,” this time she allowed herself a little laugh to escape her lips. 

“It seems most unfair that you know so much about me,” he pouted, “and I know so little about you since learning of your existence only yesterday.” 

“Well don’t let it keep you up at night,” Milady finally put her dagger back in its leather sheath attached to her belt. “I’m sure we’ll have more opportune moments for you to know me properly,” she smiled coyly. 

D’Artagnan wasn’t sure he wanted to *know* her quite that well. Up to now he only involved himself with girls near his own age. Once in awhile he indulged in mild flirtations with a few of Anne’s ladies-in-waiting. But they amounted next to nothing. This woman’s eyes held things in them that actually terrified d’Artagnan and that was saying quite a lot. He was excellent at reading people, and this brief exchange with Milady left him concerned that Louis and Jean-Armand put their trust in her.

“Just so you know, if or when you come calling for me, I might be at the garrison with my fellow brothers,” d’Artagnan chuckled as her smile turned down into a frown. “I’m a Musketeer now.” 

“Mon dieu!” Milady’s eyes narrowed. “This is not a jest on your part?” 

“Hardly,” he scoffed. ‘I’ve earned this commission for everything I’ve done for Louis and my reward was to become a Musketeer like Jean-Armand.” 

Nodding her head, Milady knew the part the boy’s been playing for the king. “So... the garrison with all those Musketeers, eh?” 

“I’ll even introduce you to the men whose unit I belong to if you'd like,” d’Artagnan announced proudly. “Porthos, Aramis and Athos are Louis’ finest soldiers in the entire regiment.” 

“Athos,” Milady whispered quietly as her eyes darkened. 

“You know him then?” d’Artagnan observed her face wipe itself of any expression, becoming a blank slate at his innocent question. 

“It’s rather been a long time since we had last seen each other,” she reluctantly admitted. Looking left and then right, Milady muttered something under her breath. “I really must go now.” She offered the young man a stiff nod. “I wish you well on your fact finding mission tonight.” 

“Until next we meet,” d’Artagnan took her hand and bestowed a brief kiss on the back of it, much to her astonishment he could tell. 

“The king’s court has rubbed off on you,” Milady remarked. “You must leave a trail of broken hearts behind you wherever you go,” she commented dryly. 

“Not so you’d notice,” d’Artagnan’s lips quirked. “Too busy saving crown and country.” 

“Ah well, such is life.” Giving him a little wave goodbye, Milady disappeared into the rabble of the Court. 

++++

*Flea’s place* 

Seeing d’Artagnan return, Flea glanced at Porthos. “He’s been right fidgity the whole time you’ve been away.” 

“Why, Porthos, I didn’t bring you here to watch out for me,” d’Artagnan was surprised at the guilty look crossing the big man’s face. “Merde!” d’Artagnan became instantly upset. “Jean-Armand wanted you to keep tabs on me I bet.” 

“Sort a,” Porthos mumbled, not wanting to make the lad mad at him or Captain Treville. 

“He usually never worries about me,” d’Artagnan murmured more to himself than the others. “Jean-Armand must not have complete faith in Milady or he wouldn't be so concerned over my welfare,” he huffed. “But as you can see I’m all in one piece,” d'Artagnan did a complete circle in front of Porthos to prove there wasn’t a mark on him. 

“Find out anythin’?” Porthos exchanged a look with Flea as both of them then stared back at d’Artagnan. 

“Milady hasn’t heard anything either pertaining to those rumors that reached Louis’ ears.” Looking back at Flea, d’Artagnan grinned. “But I do expect you to find out something. You have the best network around here.” 

“I’ll do my best, mon ami,” Flea walked up to the boy and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Don’t stay away too long ya hear me?” 

“Well that will depend on a number of things,” d’Artagnan hedged and glanced at Porthos standing silently by Flea’s side. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Nah,” Porthos replied. “Figured you’d want ta do the honors.” 

“Tell me what?” Flea’s gazed bounced back and forth between the two men as curiosity filled her. 

“Louis finally made me a Musketeer on my eighteenth birthday,” d’Artagnan explained. 

Clapping her hands in delight for her young friend, Flea embraced the lad. “Ifin’ ya had told me this sooner I’d of arranged a right nice celebration for ya.” 

“Precisely why I saved it for last, Flea,” d’Artagnan leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. “We must be leaving now as I’ll have to report back to Louis and Jean-Armand.” Then grinning he added, “Then I can ready myself for tonight's nocturnal adventures.” 

“If I hear anythin’ I’ll get word ta ya as fast as I can. Don’t ya worry about that,” Flea sent d’Artagnan a quick wink. “And don’t ya be missin' any rooftops while you're at it,” she warned. 

“Promise,” d’Artagnan raised his crossed fingers in the air. 

"I'll try to be better about showin' my own mug around here too, Flea," Porthos added gruffly, knowing the pup was watching them. 

"I'll hold ya to that, Porthos," Flea stood up on her tip toes and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Flushing, Porthos ducked his head as d'Artagnan nudged him in the side snickering. 

"If you'd like to stay longer, Porthos, it's fine with me," d'Artagnan winked. "I'll just tell Jean-Armand you were detained by important matters." 

"Don't do nothin' like that!" Porthos growled. "It'll just get me in hot water." 

"Suit yourself," d'Artagnan shrugged. "I'm heading for our horses. Catch you later, Flea." 

"Take care of yourself, d'Art," Flea smiled and waved goodbye. 

"I'll be back," Porthos nodded at her. 

"Make sure ya are," Flea gave a gentle squeeze to Porthos' arm. 

As Porthos followed d'Artagnan down to where their horses were waiting, he thought on about Flea's warning to the youngster. “Wha cha’ gonna do tonight that involves rooftops?” 

“Slipping into my other persona,” d’Artagnan slowly smiled.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at end
> 
> ++++

  


*Musketeer garrison, later that same day*

When they led their horses into the stable, both d’Artagnan and Porthos immediately tended to their mounts. Removing their tack first they made sure the animals were fed. Shortly thereafter they were joined by Athos and Aramis who quizzed them on their recent excursion in the Court of Miracles.

“Flea is going to have eyes and ears on the matter for me,” d’Artagnan explained to them as he fed Zad an apple. “My other contact, Milady, had come up empty as well. She’ll get word to me when or if she hears anything of import.”

“What make you of this Milady?” Athos wondered if she would present a threat to d'Artagnan somewhere down the road.

“A different breed of woman,” d’Artagnan folded his arms to tuck them under his armpits. “I have never met her like before.”

“Beautiful?” Aramis smiled in that way of his when he thought upon a lovely lady.

“You would ask me that,” d’Artagnan snorted in amusement. “But yes, quite beautiful in a deadly sort of way.”

“Sounds like someone to steer clear of,” Athos remarked, noticing the youngster roll his eyes back at him.

“What do you believe I have been dealing with in my line of work for Louis?” d’Artagnan raised a brow, cocking his head to the side as he pretended to be offended.

“Since you haven’t divulged the work you have done thus far,” Athos shrugged, “I have nothing to compare it too.”

“Does classified mean anything to you?” d’Artagnan fired back.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Athos’ blue eyes twinkled. He enjoyed sparring verbally with the pup and looked forward to future times as well. Feeling Aramis nudging him in the ribs, Athos turned toward him.

“Boy’s got a point,” Aramis smirked. He enjoyed listening to the younger man trying to get one up on Athos. When his stomach chose that moment to growl quite loudly, Aramis had the grace to blush. “Since you’re both back among us now how about checking out one of the finer establishments that Paris has to offer and get a decent meal?”

“I’m up for that,” Porthos grinned and patted his stomach.

“I’ll have to pass,” d’Artagnan shook his head as he fed another apple to Zad.

“Ah,” Aramis laughed. “Have a date with a pretty Mademoiselle set up for later, eh?”

“More like a date with the Parisian nightlife,” d’Artagnan winked.

“Sounds most appealing,” Athos commented in a curious voice. “Do you want company?”

Surprised at the older Musketeer’s offer, d’Artagnan nearly forgot to answer him. “My thanks, Athos, but alas I doubt you could keep up with me.” Immediately the stable was filled with the sounds of amusement coming from Porthos and Aramis, as d’Artagnan stared at both men strangely.

“You heard the pup refuse to take you along, Athos?” Aramis was nearly bent over double from laughing so hard.

“This has ta be a first for ya, Athos,” Porthos grunted as his laughter finally subsided.

Glancing back at Athos, who had kept his own council while Porthos and Aramis had their fun, d’Artagnan frowned. “Apologies,” he winced. “I meant no disrespect to you, Athos.” He tried to figure out how best to explain himself. “This is something I must do on my own. Where I go you cannot hope to follow.”

“Eh,” Porthos got d’Artagnan’s attention, “this have somethin’ ta do with those rooftops you mentioned to me earlier, lad?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan grinned, glad that at least Porthos gleaned a slight understanding of his late night maneuvers.

“What transpires on your nightly excursions?” Athos asked, genuinely curious as to what the youngster would be getting up too. No doubt it would be dangerous and that's what bothered him. There would be no one to guard the pup's back.

“I’ll be running and jumping off rooftops so as not to be seen by prying eyes,” d’Artagnan laughed as he relished the thought of absolute freedom to be himself. “I’ll become one with the shadows where no one will notice me.”

“I can see where you wouldn’t need someone like me slowing you down on your patrol,” Athos’ lips twitched, threatening to form a smile which he held back.

“No doubt d’Artagnan would have to end up rescuing you from hanging off one of those rooftops if you ever considered attempting to jump one,” Aramis chuckled as Athos scowled at him.

“I’m hoping to gather enough information either to set Louis’ mind at ease or give him pause to worry,” d’Artagnan's concerned gaze locked with that of his friends.

“Still, you have to eat,” Aramis took stock of the younger man's lanky frame and wouldn’t give up pushing food on him. “Do they even feed you at the palace?”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan chuffed, “Honestly I’m fine just the way I am,” he waved the other man’s concern away. “I’ll have something light prepared by the kitchen staff before I leave. Will that satisfy you?”

“Depends on what you eat?” Aramis twirled his mustache engagingly, but as he caught Athos' annoyed look, Aramis decided against pressing d'Artagnan about food for the moment.

“I should leave you now as I have much to prepare for.” D’Artagnan started to walk past Athos when the other man’s grip on his arm stopped him.

“*Prepare*?” Athos tilted his head in question. “What needs must you do that would take up so much of your time? You still have a few hours before nightfall yet.”

Sighing, d’Artagnan should have realized these men would be full of questions. “I never wear my street clothes when I venture out on these excursions of mine. And besides that, I have to ready my arsenal of weapons I intend to take with me.”

“May we be allowed to visit with you before your departure?” Athos waited to see if the child would refuse his request.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Athos,” d’Artagnan quipped, but he knew he’d give in to him. “Oh all right. Give me a couple of hours before coming to see me. That should give me enough time to do as Aramis keeps suggesting and get something to eat."

“Make sure you *do* eat,” Aramis urged. "Not just nibbles here or there."

“Oui, maman,” d’Artagnan snickered.

“It is only because I care, mon ami,” Aramis’ eyes twinkled as he watched d’Artagnan’s eye roll.

++++

*Several hours later - Royal Palace, d’Artagnan’s room*

At the knock on his door d’Artagnan called out, “Entre!” As he thought, the inseparables all filed inside. “Bonjour,” d’Artagnan greeted them with a smile playing about his lips.

Instead of returning the greeting, the inseparables stood dumbly as they gaped at the boy in astonishment. For standing before them d'Artagnan didn't resemble the Musketeer he had so recently and proudly become. Instead they weren't sure of what they were looking at to be honest.

“May I ask what you are wearing?” Athos was the first to find his tongue.

“The mark of a good assassin is that your marks never see you coming,” d’Artagnan grinned. “But in the event that your mark does notice you it’s always a good idea to be well-armed and well-armored,” he pointed to the armor that now adorned the upper portion of his body.

The armor d’Artagnan wore was comprised of a single cuirass which consisted of a flat abdomen that was reinforced with several small leather plates. The upper part of the cuirass echoed this leather plating, creating a truly defensible design.

“Turn around please so I can see what you carry on your back.” Athos had noticed two handles peeking past d’Artagnan’s shoulders and had to admit his curiosity was peaked.

Obeying, d’Artagnan pivoted on his feet until the men could see his weapons. Mounted on his cuirass’ shoulders were two belted, buckled straps that suspended a pair of holders for his two swords which criss-crossed his back. This way d'Artagnan was ensured of keeping two blades handy and within easy reach just over his shoulders.

When he turned back around, d’Artagnan slipped over his head the attached hood which was perfect for hiding his face from view. His leather pants fit snugly into his boots, and dressed all in black he appeared what he was... lethal.

“Basically, everything I wear is built for stealth,” d’Artagnan bent down to slide a small dagger into a hidden pocket in each of his boots.

Porthos was interested in the small blades and bent down to get a closer look. As he reached out a finger to touch one, his hand was stopped by d’Artagnan’s.

“You may look but don’t touch,” d’Artagnan warned gently. “They’re tipped in poison.”

Jerking his hand back, Porthos looked at d’Artagnan as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re right deadly.”

“That’s the idea,” d’Artagnan winked at the larger Musketeer.

Adjusting his leather vambraces until they fit comfortably on his arms, d’Artagnan resigned himself to another inspection as this time it was Aramis’ curiosity that needed satisfied. He waited patiently as Aramis took his arm and turned it this way and that as he examined them.

“Curious construction,” Aramis mused as he ran his hand over the vambraces.

“These are forearm guards which I had doctored to hold small daggers,” d’Artagnan explained.

“What are those?” Athos pointed to several silver stars sticking out of d’Artagnan’s belt.

“Ah!” d’Artagnan chuckled. “Louis had a guest from the orient visiting with us once, a very long time ago. The man introduced me to these fascinating weapons and gifted a set to me.” D’Artagnan plucked one from his belt and held it out for the men to examine. “They’re called hira shurikens.”

“Hira... what?” Porthos scratched his head as he held one in his hand.

“Otherwise known as ninja or throwing stars,” d’Artagnan replied.

“How is it used?” Aramis thought it an odd weapon of choice. It did resemble a star in appearance but with those curved sharp points it probably was a useful tool for an assassin to use.

“With a snap of my wrist I release the star into the air at whatever object I’m aiming at.” Taking back the shuriken from Porthos, d’Artagnan tucked it back where it belonged.

“You mentioned the word *ninja*,” Athos had never heard it before and it sounded strange on his tongue. “What does it mean?”

“It’s just another term used to describe a Japanese Samurai warrior,” d’Artagnan saw Athos’ eyes widen at that. He knew the man was well read and would understand what type of soldier a Samurai was.

“Ya get the feelin’ the pup’s way smarter than the three of us combined?” Porthos looked at each of his brothers who nodded their heads in agreement.

“I see why you have no need of a companion tonight,” Athos remarked deadpanned, though he knew the lad heard the humor behind his words.

“I have something else of interest I know Aramis would enjoy seeing,” d’Artagnan smiled as he pulled out a small pouch, opened it up and poured a strand of prayer beads into his palm. Holding it in his hands as if he were actually using them in prayer, d’Artagnan tugged on one end of it releasing a hidden garrote from within.

“Mon dieu!” Aramis was indeed shocked. “I’d say it was blasphemy to use those beads in such a way, but it must prove most useful to you.”

“Indeed it has,” d’Artagnan nodded. “Now, gentlemen, as you have witnessed my transformation,” he laughed, “I bid you all a fond adieu.”

“Even though you’re very well armed,” Athos pointed out the obvious, “do be careful.” He still would have rather gone with the boy himself but knew it would not be prudent to do so. Athos hated to admit it, but he would be next to useless only being armed with his sword and musket.

“My thanks for your concern, but I have been doing this since I was fifteen years of age.” Hearing Aramis gasp behind him, d’Artagnan gave him a sharp look. “I had been training since way before that and had been using my stealth skills as a spy in the palace for Louis since I was ten. But neither Louis or Jean-Armand would let me loose until I proved to them I was more than capable of being out on my own.”

“And did ya?” Porthos folded his arms and his stance appeared relaxed. He was truly amazed at what this whelp had been doing at such a young age. And here he thought being brought up in the Court of Miracles had been a harsh road to follow.

“One day Jean-Armand tested me. He had trailed me to observe what I had learned and to see how I put my lessons to use,” d’Artagnan grinned at the old memory. “I was following someone Louis thought was a Spanish agent. It led me for the first time into the Court of Miracles.”

“That’s how ya met Flea, isn’t it?” Porthos eyes crinkled in amusement. “I would have loved to have seen her face when she met ya for the first time.”

“Yes, well,” d’Artagnan blushed. “It’s rather an amusing story that I may tell you about later.”

“Go on,” Athos prodded, “I want to hear about this Spanish agent you were following.”

“Well one thing led to another,” d’Artagnan chuckled, “and with Flea’s help I captured him.”

“What did Captain Treville say?” Aramis still had a hard time believing the lad had been doing this when he was hardly more than a child.

“Jean-Armand told me that when he realized I was heading into the Court he nearly had a heart attack but couldn’t pull me out at the last minute without calling attention to myself,” d’Artagnan tugged on his hood which was threatening to slip off.

“So at the ripe old age of fifteen you were set free to roam the streets of Paris in this guise?” Athos shook his head, simply amazed.

“I can’t wait to jump the rooftops,” d’Artagnan’s laughter was infectious as the inseparables all smiled back at him.

“Sounds risky,” Aramis tried to appear concerned, but his eyes betrayed him as they sparkled with mirth.

“Not if one knows how to do it properly,” d’Artagnan glanced at Athos. “Just like learning the correct way to handle a sword.”

“At least tell me you ate something before heading off to God knows where to do God knows what?” Aramis teased.

“I have,” d’Artagnan made some minor adjustments on his gear, and with a final look at his friends he made a motion toward the door.

“I hope tonight proves fruitful for you,” Athos’ voice deepened. “I truly wish I could be with you.”

“No you don’t,” d’Artagnan snorted. “Because by tomorrow morning you’d be complaining about all your aches and pains from trying to follow me around.”

“Boyo’s probably right on the money about that,” Porthos winked as he slapped d’Artagnan on the back. “Ouch! Merde!” He shook out his hand. “Forgot about all that metal plating ya wearin’.”

With much laughter filling the air, the inseparables followed d’Artagnan out of the palace.

++++

Note:  
A cuirass is a piece of armor comprised of bony plates or scales for protecting the breast and back, often consisting of two pieces fastened together.

Weapons mentioned are definitely real.

  



	6. Chapter 6

_Paris in the late evening_

Ah, it felt good, d’Artagnan thought as the hot night breezes whipped through his long hair, as he jumped, tucked and rolled from one rooftop to the other. There was nothing like it in his estimation, well perhaps riding on Zad came a close second. He laughed low in his throat, losing count of how many rooftops he had leaped from, how many gutters he had shimmied down, how many dark alleys he had hidden in for even a snatch of conversation hinting at the murderous plot to kill Louis.

D’artagnan had been at this for hours now and was about ready to call it a night when he finally hit paydirt. He was hidden in the shadows between two buildings on the rue Saint-Severin in the north of Paris’ Latin Quarter. Listening to a small group of toughs, d’Artagnan heard details of a definite coup against his guardian.

Knowing that these men couldn’t see nor hear his movements, d’Artagnan huffed to himself as he was annoyed that he had to keep following them. Evidently they had trust issues or else just itchy feet as they kept moving from one place to another. D’Artagnan lost count of how many streets he had already gone down. His attention to detail even slipped slightly as he concentrated on not losing site of the men he was tailing. So it came as a complete surprise to him when the group had stopped in front of the Eglise Saint-Severin Church. Odd place for ones such as these to converse he thought but it beat being in a smelly alley for long periods of time. Listening intently, d’Artagnan heard them arguing with each other.

_“I tell you, Jean, it will work!”_

_“Tis not you that will be risking their neck, Denys!”_

_“Aye, listen to the man, Denys. There is much risk for the rest of us if the king ever got a whiff of what we’re planning on doing._ ”

_“Is the time still set then, Christofle?”_

_“Oui, we’re on for next Saturday when King Louis dedicates some damn statue at The Place des Vosges.”_

_“Ha ha! Then the king will go boom along with that statue.”_

_“His royal arse won’t know what hit him, Denys.”_

The place the men mentioned d’Artagnan knew well. It was a square located on the border of the third and fourth quarter in the district of Marais. He had heard enough, but as he fingered his throwing star d’Artagnan debated with himself whether he should go ahead and just kill these men now or let them go free. If he followed through with dispatching them it would only result in scaring the rest of their co-conspirators into hiding, leaving them to crawl out of the sewers another day.

So d’Artagnan tucked his weapon back into his belt. Better to lay a trap for them at the dedication ceremony and turn the tables in Louis’ favor. This way the Musketeers could catch hopefully everyone involved instead of taking down only a few.

A quiet yawn escaped his lips telling d’Artagnan it was more than time for him to head back home. It had been a fruitful evening, but he looked forward to his bed. No doubt Athos would be irritated with him tomorrow morning as d’Artagnan would miss their sparring session, but his sleep was far more important. Not counting the fact that d’Artagnan still had to inform Louis of what he had learned.

++++

_Royal Palace, next day, very late in the morning – d’Artagnan’s room_

Someone pulled the curtains aside to let in the bright sunshine, waking d’Artagnan up in the process. Sitting up in bed, his powder blue nightshirt slipped off his shoulder revealing a long thin scar that ran across his right shoulder blade and traveled downward to lose itself within the folds of d’Artagnan’s nightshirt.

Knuckling his eyes, d’Artagnan sleepily glanced up at Jean-Armand who stood beside his bed staring down at him. “What time is it?”

“Time enough that all good petite Gascons should be out of their bed,” Jean-Armand chuckled. “You’ve already missed breakfast and practice with Athos,” he snorted. “I had to make your excuses for you.”

“Athos and the others knew I’d be out quite late,” d’Artagnan explained as he threw his covers off and slowly got out of bed.

“It is nearly time for lunch now,” Jean-Armand huffed as he rolled his eyes and shook his head at the boy. “Louis and I hate it when you stay out so late.”

“It’ll pay dividends,” d’Artagnan slipped into his long, satin blue robe. Belting it around his waist he went to the mirror and grimaced at his mussed up hair. It was going all over the place, and he disliked looking like that first thing in the morning, even if it was nearly noon. “As soon as I make myself presentable I will see Louis and explain what I have learned.”

“Then it was not a rumor after all?” Jean-Armand frowned in concern.

“Non, it was not.” After d’Artagnan fixed his hair to his satisfaction he walked over to the window to peer outside at the lovely gardens near where his room was situated. “Perhaps Athos won’t mind us practicing in the afternoon today, that is if he and the others do not have any missions.”

“ _He_ and _they_ do not,” Jean-Armand laughed. “Go get washed and dressed, pup,” he smiled as d’Artagnan rolled his eyes back at him. “I’ll tell Louis you’ll be into see him shortly, and in the meantime I’ll send up lunch for you.”

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan gave him a sweet smile, the kind he knew usually swayed Jean-Armand to d’Artagnan’s way of thinking.

“Nice try,” Jean-Armand grinned and tried not to fall for d’Artagnan’s pouting. It reminded him so much of the petite garcon d’Artagnan used to be. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem that any time has passed at all when I look at you.”

“Putting me in my place?” d’Artagnan chuckled, amusement danced in his soft, brown eyes.

“None of us have succeeded so far,” Jean-Armand admitted. “Though I’m willing to bet Athos might pick up the challenge.”

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan exclaimed in dismay. “That thought never occurred to me.”

“I’ll enjoy watching you two work it out together,” Jean-Armand left to order the youngster something from the kitchen. “Oh, and d’Artagnan…”

“Oui?” d’Artagnan tilted his head as he watched Jean-Armand pause, half in and half out the door.

“If you insist on burning candles at both ends like this now that you’ve become a Musketeer, I doubt Athos is going to like adjusting to _your_ schedule,” Jean-Armand remarked dryly.

“Not like I needed all that much practice time to begin with,” d’Artagnan snorted softly as he unbelted his robe to remove his night shirt.

“You’re used to working alone,” Jean-Armand reminded him. “Get used to being part of a team now,” he smiled kindly at the young man. “You need to practice with all of them so you can all learn from one another your strengths and weaknesses. That’s how you work as an efficient unit.” Seeing the boy about to argue, Jean-Armand held up his finger. “Remember, this was all you ever wanted.”

“Thought you were getting me some lunch,” d’Artagnan grunted as he walked over to the wash basin. Knowing that Jean-Armand was correct in everything he said, d’Artagnan pushed it aside as he heard the door close quietly behind him. But the sounds of Jean-Armand’s unmistakable laughter still reached his ears.

++++

_Royal throne room_

The inseparables wondered why Captain Treville had ordered them to the palace this time. They immediately began to worry that something had happened to d’Artagnan as none of them had encountered the lad since last night.

Athos, especially felt his stomach church at the thought that the boy may have gotten into difficulties, and he cursed himself for not insisting that he should have tagged along. No matter that Athos couldn’t leapfrog over rooftops.

Lost in his own thoughts Athos missed the entrance of King Louis, along with d’Artagnan, until he was nearly knocked off his feet by a nudge from Porthos. Glaring at his larger friend, Athos hissed under his breath. “Subtle, very subtle.”

“Got your attention right off didn’t it?” Porthos grunted, eyes gleaming wickedly telling Athos how much he enjoyed the other man’s discomfort.

“Good to see you’re still in one piece, d’Artagnan,” Aramis grinned as he clapped the youngster on the shoulder, giving him a quick wink while Athos glowered at them both.

“Sorry, I missed this morning with all of you, but I didn’t get back to the palace until nearly five a.m.,” d’Artagnan tried to stifle another yawn as he covered his mouth with a hand. Hearing quiet laughter behind him, d’Artagnan turned around and caught the amused gaze of Porthos. Smirking at him, d’Artagnan shook out his long hair spraying the Musketeers with wet droplets of water.

“Whoa!” Aramis cried out. “What’s with the waterworks?”

“Dipped my head in the water basin to wake myself up,” d’Artagnan replied, wondering why both Aramis and Porthos were staring at him strangely.

Rubbing his beard, Aramis glanced sideways at Porthos. Both men nodded their heads as they turned to look at a suddenly uncomfortable Athos.

“What am I missing?” d’Artagnan looked from one to the other.

“Our friend here,” Porthos pointed toward Athos, “does the same thing in the mornings to wake up."

"You mean to clear his head," Aramis corrected with an impish light in his eyes, earning a glower from his melancholy friend. Quietly, for d'Artagnan's ears only, Aramis whispered, “Though Athos' reasons for doing such are usually to recover from a bad hangover."

“Really?” d’Artagnan tried not to let his own amusement show as Athos looked away from them all. But d’Artagnan thought he noticed Athos blushing in embarrassment.

“Now that everyone’s present,” King Louis stood in front of his soldiers with Treville by his side, “d’Artagnan you now have the floor.”

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan nodded his head at his guardian. “Last night I was able to gain important information of an attempt on the king's life.”

“When... where... and how?” Athos barked out, his hand gripped the pommel of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Next Saturday at The Place des Vosges,” d’Artagnan’s lips tightened fractionally as he too was more than upset.

“That’s in Marais,” Porthos frowned in thought. “I’m forgettin’, d’Artagnan, but what’s His Majesty’s business over there?”

“A dedication of a statue in honor of his father King Henry IV done by a local artisan,” d’Artagnan replied.

“What time are you due there, sire?” Athos asked. He was surprised that King Louis seemed content to stand back and listen to the rest of them speak instead of voicing his own opinions.

“Treville?” King Louis looked at his captain in question. “You have not yet informed me of when I was to appear there.”

“Ah, I beg your forgiveness, but under the circumstances it doesn’t matter now for you will not be in attendance,” Treville was most firm on that score and would brook no argument from the king.

Amused, despite the seriousness of the situation, King Louis smiled. “Where will I be then?”

“Right here, safe in the palace,” Treville’s eyes focused on his men. “D’Artagnan and I came up with a rather intriguing plan just a little while ago.”

“Do share,” Aramis laughed as he watched the silent byplay going on between the boy and their captain as the pair kept exchanging expressive looks with each other.

“The king was to speak around one p.m.,” d’Artagnan explained. “We will still attend but with someone else disguised as the king, along with a goodly portion of our Musketeers disguised as commoners.”

“My men will fan out and search the area for explosives,” Treville added. “Hopefully along the way d’Artagnan may be able to identify the men he saw last night. He already heard the canaille’s call each other by name and we're both hoping that they may be the ringleaders of these malcontents.”

“This way if we catch them their followers will think twice of doing this again,” d’Artagnan felt Louis’ hand on his back and the warmth of his guardian’s touch through his loose shirt, as he had yet to put on his doublet. As usual, Louis’ presence always left d’Artagnan with a sense of peace. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it came from when Louis and Jean-Armand had come upon him and his dead parents so very long ago. Then, as now, his safe harbor from harm began and ended with Louis.

“There is always the risk that we will not be able to locate those explosives before they are set off,” Athos observed Treville and d’Artagnan’s lack of concern on that matter.

“ _Risk_ is always around the corner for any Musketeer, Athos,” d’Artagnan dipped his head, “it’s part of our job description.”

“Eh, whelp,” Porthos winked, “ya sounding more like me every minute.”

“Oh please!” Aramis nearly whined, slapping Porthos lightly on the man's massive chest. “One of you is more than enough.”

“I’m completely satisfied Treville and you men will have everything well in hand.” Looking at d’Artagnan, King Louis’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Just make sure none of you get blown up.” He tapped the boy on the nose. “Especially you.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Following Saturday - The Place des Vosges, square on the border of the third and fourth quarter - District of Marais_

Not comfortable in his peasant’s clothes, Athos kept tugging on his loose fitting, dingy looking shirt. Frowning at the cheap material, Athos wondered where Treville, King Louis and d’Artagnan had unearthed such a volume of commoner’s clothing for everyone. He caught sight of Porthos hovering near the statue of King Henry IV and Athos nodded his head at him in recognition, smiling as his big friend grinned and winked back.

Athos had no idea where Aramis had gotten off too nor d’Artagnan for that matter. Everyone was scattered about including Captain Treville. King Louis spared at least half of the Musketeer regiment for them to route out the malcontents involved in this conspiracy. It was to be hoped that d’Artagnan could spot the men he saw and overhead the night he had discovered this plot.

Just then someone bumped into Athos’ back quite hard, and with a curse on his lips he turned around to give the lout a piece of his mind but it was to find a grinning d’Artagnan staring Athos in the face instead. “Have you seen those men yet?” he snapped.

“Always to the point, Athos,” d’Artagnan remarked cheekily. “No hello, how are you?” he laughed.

“Parbleu!” Athos huffed. “You’re very lighthearted over all this considering they’re trying to kill your guardian and our king,” sarcasim dripped from every word as Athos arched a brow while stabbing d’Artagnan with his usual dour look.

“This is familiar territory for me, Athos,” d’Artagnan let slip with a light shrug, his tone cool now.

“You’ve set about hunting explosives before?” Athos asked in a curious voice. “Chasing after canailles who wanted to blow up His Majesty is a common occurrence for you is it?”

Chuckling, d’Artagnan’s sharp eyes scanned the crowds while he let Athos stew for a few moments longer. “There was an assassination attempt a few years ago in the palace itself that I stumbled upon, you could say.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Athos was intrigued. “I do not recall hearing anything about it.” Hearing this, Athos was annoyed that he, along with Porthos and Aramis, apparently had been left out on that one.

“You wouldn’t,” d’Artagnan snorted. “Louis didn’t want it leaked out since the scheme involved a distant cousin of his who had been visiting with him.”

“Treville agreed to that?” That surprised Athos most of all and explained why none of the Musketeers had been summoned. “Dare I ask what happened to the wily faquin?”

“You may ask?” d’Artagnan laughed easily, avoiding his friend's glower.

“But you are not going to enlighten me, eh?” Athos bit back a retort as the boy rolled his eyes at him.

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to go back about your business, pup.”

“I’m at your command,” d’Artagnan teased.

“Diantre! I doubt it,” Athos admitted wryly, watching the lad lose himself once more among the throng of onlookers that came to either hear King Louis speak or watch him get blown to kingdom come.

Well, Athos thought if it was to happen it would be soon as the fake king’s carriage finally arrived and stopped near the statue of King Henry IV.

++++

So far Treville hadn’t had any luck in finding the explosives nor did any of his men by the look of things. Noticing the carriage arriving as scheduled, Treville feared that d’Artagnan hadn’t yet found the men in charge of this dastardly plot. Many would be hurt or killed when those explosives went off, and he could see the gendarmes on duty were just as empty handed as the rest of them.

Seeing d’Artagnan weaving in and out through the crowds of people, Treville grew nervous for the boy. If he dared get himself injured he would never forgive himself nor would Louis be able too either. He remembered Louis’ words to d’Artagnan warning the boy and his fellow brothers not to get blown up. If things didn’t turn in their favor soon, getting _blown up_ may become a reality... for all of them.

Hearing a sharp pitched whistle, Treville instantly turned around at the sound and saw d’Artagnan motioning to him. Racing toward the youngster, he abruptly came to a halt as d’Artagnan held up a hand and pointed toward a group of men who were talking together near the king’s carriage.

“That’s them,” d’Artagnan whispered. He had his throwing stars hidden in his worn tunic and small daggers concealed in the pockets of the old pair of boots he wore. His sword, pistol and main gauche, along with the other Musketeer’s weapons, were stashed inside a wagon nearby. If needed that would be where they would all converge to retrieve them. It wouldn’t do for commoners to walk about armed to the teeth, drawing suspicion on them from the very men they were trying to find. Though d’Artagnan did have an advantage over his brothers as he fingered his prayer beads he wore around his neck.

Treville signaled to Athos, who in turn rounded up Porthos as they joined d’Artagnan, who by some miracle, had now located Aramis. They all had the lad’s back as d’Artagnan walked up to the group of canailles.

“Bon jour, Jean,” d’Artagnan dipped his head at the first man. Then turning slightly and focused on another. “Fine day to listen to the king speak, wouldn’t you say, Denys?” D’Artagnan could nearly hear their thoughts in his own head, probably wondering how he knew them. “And, Christofle,” d’Artagnan grinned at the last man, “good to see you again.”

“Do we know you?” Jean asked. To his recollection this youngster was not someone he had ever met before.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan shrugged, “in a manner of speaking.”

“Eh, how’s that again?” questioned Christofle, as he made a show of insolently looking the boy up and down.

"Looking for warts?" d'Artagnan chuckled. Then faster than lightning, d’Artagnan whipped out and threw his pair of throwing stars at Christofle pinning the man’s shirt to the king’s carriage without spilling a drop of the man’s blood.

“Merde!” Jean cried as he started after d’Artagnan. He didn’t get very far as Athos belted the man in the jaw knocking the man to the ground. While Aramis also used his fists as he toyed with Denys.

“Where are the explosives?” d’Artagnan hissed in Christofle’s face.

Realizing they had been trapped, Christofle’s eyes searched out that of his friend Jean’s.

Not missing the exchange, d’Artagnan reached into his boot for his dagger. Jabbing it into Jean’s neck, he broke the skin until little droplets of blood began to weep out. D’Artagnan’s brown eyes darkened to nearly black as he began to enjoy playing with the man as a cat toys with a mouse. “Doesn’t the chatalet sound most appealing to you than an early grave, Monsieur?” he drawled out softly.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos placed a staying hand on the boy’s back. “Remember we need them all alive if they are to tell us the location.” When the youngster swung his gaze back to Athos, he sucked in his breath at what he saw in the boy’s eyes. It was an untamed wildness more consistent with that of a jungle predator than that of a young Musketeer. This... this facet of d’Artagnan Athos did not expect and, if he were honest with himself, it frightened him to a certain degree.

“Under... underneath... the statue,” Jean stuttered out. This young man scared him so badly that he nearly wet his pants. “We found out where the statue was going to be erected and buried the explosives in the ground before it got put in place.” Jean fidgited under the lad’s glare and was most relieved when the boy got tired of him and walked away. When Jean glanced over at Denys it was to see his friend being held in a strong grip by the biggest man he had ever seen. While poor Christofle was still pinned to the coach by those funny looking pieces of metal. They were all going down hard for this it seemed. They would all be lucky with just getting a hanging out of this.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to point out any other fellow co-conspirators in the crowd here?” Aramis smiled at d’Artagnan as the lad threw him his sword from the wagon. Seeing all three canailles nodding at him, Aramis smirked. Looking at his friends, he bowed before them. “See, a little fineness and they squeal like stuck pigs.”

Clapping his hands, Treville went to stand by the lad’s side. “Well played,” he smiled into d’Artagnan’s eyes.

“Quel dommage that I didn’t get to kill any of them,” d’Artagnan appeared bored with the whole thing now since the day was saved.

“It misgives me to hear you speak like that, son,” Treville frowned, taken aback for a moment by the youngster’s attitude.

“Apologies,” d’Artagnan appeared contrite. “I’ll go help our men retrieve the explosives.”

“You did not mention that a darkness lingered inside the pup,” Athos remarked cooly as he walked over to Treville.

Facing his lieutenant, Treville raised an eyebrow, similar in manner to that of Athos. “I’m counting on you to bring d’Artagnan into the light.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All this re-posting the hard way because I went and deleted the whole story when I wanted to just delete my latest chapter and re-post it again because of a mistake I made. Gee whiz! LOL!  
> Well here is the NEW chapter at least!
> 
> See Notes at end.
> 
> ++++

*Several days later after the attempted assassination of King Louis at The Place des Vosges*

“Wasn’t it nice of the captain to send us all on a nice, easy mission outside of Paris for once?” Aramis laughed jovially as he and Porthos rode in front with Athos and d'Artagnan bringing up the rear.

“The air smells right nicer out here,” Porthos agreed, flashing a wide smile at Aramis.

“We did not get to meet with the king after we dealt with those explosives that were planted,” Athos regarded d’Artagnan’s unusual somberness with unease. He was used to the boy’s zest for life, so full of youthful energy that sometimes it made him tired just to look at the lad. D’Artagnan wasn’t even peppering them all with questions of their past exploits or misadventures, as most of them turned out to be. Since they had taken care of the malcontents who wanted to blow up King Louis to bits, the lad’s been unnaturally tight lipped. “Was he at least pleased with the outcome?”

Holding onto Zad’s reins tightly, d’Artagnan looked at Athos quite seriously. “Louis was exceedingly happy with our work that day with a promise to me to think upon lowering his subjects taxes, which I have been annoying him much about lately."

"Good for ya, boyo!" Porthos was happy to hear d'Artagnan speak on behalf of the people of France. God knew someone needed to do more than dance attendance on King Louis.

“But more happened back in the palace I’d wager since you’ve barely spoken to any of us these past few days since,” Athos arched a brow staring at the younger man wondering how he'd respond.

“Jean-Armand gave me a rousing lecture about keeping my emotions in check,” d’Artagnan admitted.

“I nearly thought you were going to end that one canaille’s life for a second or two,” Athos noticed a slight flicker of emotion cross d’Artagnan’s set face. “Of course it would have been no great loss, but we did need the valuable information he carried at the time,” Athos tone was admittedly dry as he tried to jar the boy out of his mood. Seeing a slight lift of the pup’s shoulders, Athos heard the lad sigh deeply from within.

“That is why I had the lecture,” d’Artagnan’s head hung low. Hearing Porthos’ laughter up ahead, d’Artagnan’s head snapped up as he glared at the larger Musketeer. Seeing Porthos grin back at him, d’Artagnan wasn’t pleased. “You think it amusing to be taken to task by the man who is your captain?”

D’Artagnan’s remark hit Porthos where he meant it too... the dark-skinned man’s pride. When he saw Porthos’s grin fade away, d’Artagnan felt guiltier than ever. Taking his own anger out on his friend wasn’t something he meant to do. “Apologies,” he said sincerely.

“No offense taken, whelp,” Porthos bark of laughter had Aramis joining in while both Athos and d’Artagnan looked on in silence.

“Nothing to say, Athos?” d’Artagnan waited for the older man to berate him as well, feeling like he better start getting used to being taken down a peg or two from now on.

“You know it is a pleasant day,” Athos gaze encompassed all his brothers as he tipped his hat low. “Let’s try and enjoy it for once shall we?”

Taking his cue from Athos, Aramis began whistling a jaunty tune that evidently Porthos recognized as he began to sing a ribald song matching the melody.

It took both d’Artagnan and Athos by surprise as the two men exchanged grins while they listened to their friends have their fun.

++++

Of course, since it was them, the nice, easy mission Aramis mentioned earlier turned out to be anything but as they were attacked by a large group of malandrins. When the battle ceased, all four Musketeers were left standing practically unharmed but for a few minor scratches here or there. Having either killed or injured nearly ten of the canailles the inseparables were aggravated, not by the unexpected attack itself, more on the actions of their youngest during the fight.

“D’Artagnan!” Athos shouted at the boy as the lad busied himself trussing up several of the cut-purses that remained alive.

Turning to face the eldest Musketeer, d’Artagnan’s face was grim. “Is something wrong?”

“Is _something wrong_ he asks? Athos snorted derisively as he shared an angry look with the rest of his brothers. “Why did you not come to the aid of any of us when we were fighting?”

“None of you needed any help that I could see,” d’Artagnan glared at the three men in disbelief.

“You've claimed that you always wanted to be one of us and work within our group,” Athos reminded the youngster forcefully. “But Mon dieu! You certainly don't act like it!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” d’Artagnan was at a complete loss, clearly not understanding Athos’ point he was trying to hammer home.

“Aramis needed aid but Porthos came to help him after dispatching the men he fought with,” Athos stabbed the whelp with another angry glare. “But you were free to go to Aramis way before that.”

“We watch each other’s back,” Aramis too was put out at the boy’s lack of action when he needed back-up.

“I assumed all three of you were well able to take care of yourselves in that respect,” d’Artagnan noted the other men look at each other in bewilderment.

“If ya can’t work in a team ya ain’t gonna fit with us or any other group of Musketeers,” Porthos grunted in displeasure. He also was dismayed at the lad’s way of handling things.

“C’est le ton qui fait la chanson,” Aramis quietly murmured with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve worked alone for a very long while now,” d’Artagnan crossed his arms, tucking his hands underneath his armpits. He knew these men had a valid reason for being mad at him and had no right to even try to defend himself. “I promise to work on changing my ways,” he rocked back on his heels as the inseparables studied him carefully.

“See that ya do,” Porthos grunted. “Now let’s round up these canailles and drop em’ off at the nearest jail on our way.”

Feeling duly chastised for the second time within the last few days, d’Artagnan sulked. Afraid to do or say anything further that would irritate the others, d'Artagnan kept his own council as they rode to closest town.

++++

After safely depositing the malandrins to the local authorities, the Musketeers continued on their journey. Because of their delay, they began to lose the light of day sooner than they would have liked and made the decision to make camp by a nearby stream where their horses could water. While all of them busied themselves with their own individual tasks, an even larger group of malandrins were about to make their presence known very soon.

Porthos and Athos watched their young one tend to the horses in silence and the two men exchanged concerned glances.

“Think we hurt d’Art’s feelins’,” Porthos grumbled low.

“The boy has to learn he’s not a lone wolf anymore,” Athos huffed in aggravation. “The lad has skills the rest of us do not. D’Artagnan’s more than willing to share his accomplishments with his brothers, but the child has yet to learn the art of working within a unit.”

“Oui,” Porthos nodded, “right as usual.” Then he nudged Athos in the side and cantered his head toward d’Artagnan’s approach.

“I heard rustling in the bushes just now,” d’Artagnan whispered softly.

“There is no breeze,” Aramis remarked as he joined them. “Perhaps a deer?”

“I doubt it,” Athos frowned. “Our campfire and the noise we have been making setting up camp would have scared any animal away by now.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Split up and move cautiously,” Athos ordered.

They no sooner went to do exactly that when their camp was overrun and the Musketeers were caught off guard. Outnumbered by at least sixteen to the four of them, it would have been suicide to try to fight back. So they waited to see what these canailles wanted from them.

A swarthy skinned man stepped out of the darkness to step in the light of the Musketeer’s campfire. He was a tall, muscular man with a long, thin scar marring his face as it ran from the top of his hairline to curve toward his chin. “The king’s finest I see,” he snarled as his gaze roamed over the four men until it finally came to rest on d’Artagnan. “Has King Louis stooped to recruiting enfants now?” he snorted.

“I earned my place here!” d’Artagnan sneered back, feeling Athos hand at his elbow preventing d’Artagnan from making any rash moves.

“May we have the pleasure of knowing to whom we are speaking with?” Athos stared directly into the cut-purse’s dark eyes.

“Jehan at your service,” he mockingly bowed as his coarse laughter filled the air.

“We ain’t got nothin’ ya want,” Porthos spoke roughly. “Musketeer’s travel light,” he chuckled despite their situation. “Plus we ain’t got much coin between us to make it worth ya while to rob us either.”

“Heureux sont les enfants dont les pe’res sont damn'es,” Jehan chuckled as his eyes lingered on the youngest of the Musketeers. Turning around he barked out orders to his men as at least four scattered to do Jehan’s bidding.

“I never claimed to like Musketeers overmuch,” Jehan rubbed his chin. “Think I’ll lighten His Majesty's roster some.” He pulled his pistol from his belt and pointed it straight at Athos first.

Seeing what was about to happen, d’Artagnan did what Jean-Armand and Athos had been beating him over the head about lately. He covered his brother’s backs. Urgently d’Artagnan stepped forward before any of his friends could stop him as he walked right up to Jehan’s loaded pistol. “If you promise me not to hurt them then take me with you,” he talked quietly to the man, not wanting to be overheard by the inseparables.

“It would save me the trouble of dragging your young ass off with us,” Jehan’s eyes gleamed in triumph, having gotten what he wanted to begin with. “Thought you stayed in Paris with your watch dog Treville.”

“Things change,” d’Artagnan retorted.

“That they do.” Taking the boy by the arm, Jehan put d'Artagnan behind him. Nodding to his men he watched as they tied the other three Musketeers together. “That should keep you all occupied for a time trying to set yourselves free from those ropes.” Observing d’Artagnan cross over to his horse, Jehan glanced back at the hapless trio. “Seems like you had something valuable after all,” he snickered. “My thanks, gentlemen,” he smiled pleasantly. “Been profitable meeting all of you.”

“D’Artagnan!” Athos yelled out at the boy already mounted on Zad’s back.

Guiding Zad over to his brothers-in-arms, d’Artagnan looked down at them as his horse snorted softly. “This is the only way to save your lives, Athos.”

“Aye, whelp, this isn’t what we meant about coverin’ our backs,” Porthos growled.

“So help me if you get yourself hurt...” Arams snapped, not really mad at the boy, just the circumstances that made d’Artagnan feel he had to sacrifice himself for them.

“We _will_ get you back!” Athos vowed, his look grim as he studied the youngster’s calm facade.

“I’m counting on it.” Dipping his head, d'Artagnan took one last look at the men he had begun to think of as family. Then turning Zad around he followed Jehan and his men away from the camp.

++++

Notes:

I found a neat site that gave me all sort of French Proverbs and sayings with their English Equivalents. Below are two that I used in this chapter.

 _C'est le ton qui fait la chanson_ \- English Equivalent: It's not what you do, it's the way that you do it.

 _Heureux sont les enfants dont les pe'res sont damn'es_ \- English Equivalent: No one gets rich quickly if he is honest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigmund, you'll get a little idea of where d'Art got his scar from this chapter.
> 
> See notes at end.
> 
> ++++

*Jehan’s campsite*

There had been no need to tie d’Artagnan up as far as Jehan was concerned. His encampment held numerous numbers and there would be no way the boy could escape without being caught.

Looking around as d’Artagnan sat down by the warmth of the campfire, he noticed that Jehan had even more men than the sixteen that invaded their own camp. “Quite the following, d’Artagnan murmured as he stared into the dancing firelight. It was nearly dark as pitch now and he could vaguely make out Jehan’s soldiers that surrounded the camp. They appeared as inky figures against the backdrop of the forest.

“A lot has changed since last we met,” Jehan snorted as he joined the youth. “For one thing… you’re still alive,” he tilted his head as Jehan studied the boy’s unconcerned gaze as d’Artagnan observed him in turn. “How is it you live?”

“After you left me for dead, Jean-Armand found me and Louis had his physician sent for immediately to save my life.”

“At least I left King Louis with a lasting reminder that even his precious petite Gascon wasn’t even safe within the so-called safety of the king's palace walls.”

“If it makes you feel any better I bare a scar from the last cut you dealt me,” d’Artagnan remembered that day as if it had just happened recently.

“So I left my mark on you after all, boy,” Jehan slapped his thighs as he sat cross-legged in front of the blazing fire, his laughter filling the camp.

“What’s your plan now that I’m your prisoner?” D’Artagnan hadn’t missed the fact that Jehan had nearly twenty five followers as he had done a quick head count when first arriving in the man’s camp. No way would he be able to escape undetected. He could only pray that the inseparables would eventually free themselves from their bonds and find their way to him.

“Haven’t much thought on that one yet,” Jehan mused. “Was taken by surprise to find you with them and a damn Musketeer to boot!”

“Tout vient a point a qui sait attendre,” d’Artagnan grinned, not bothered that the odds were currently stacked against him.

“I just happened to have some wine to celebrate your commission,” Jehan chuckled as he withdrew a bottle from his saddlebags he had beside him.

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “Nothing for me.”

“Un jour sans vin est comme un jour sans soleil,” Jehan cocked a brow high.

“You sound like my friend Athos,” d’Artagnan smirked. Remembering a time when Athos was in his cups and tried to get d’Artagnan to join him in his inebriated state.

“Likes his drink, eh?” Jehan took a deep swig from his bottle, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “Tis a fine vintage, lad,” Jehan winked at the youngster, holding out the bottle once more. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”

“Positive,” d’Artagnan glanced away from the man, thinking back to the days when he had known Jehan as one of Louis’ favored Musketeers.

“You’re attitude makes me think you don’t like my company much, boy,” Jehan cackled.

“Mieux vaut etre seul que mal accompagne,” d’Artagnan shrugged.

“Still got that smart mouth on you, lad,” Jehan cuffed d’Artagnan hard on the back of the boy’s head.

Rubbing at the sore spot, d’Artagnan glared at the older man. “If I was armed you wouldn’t have dared to that,” he spat.

“Think much of your skills do you?” Jehan took another deep swig from the nearly empty bottle of wine and tossed it aside to roll on the ground. It landed near d’Artagnan’s foot and the younger man kicked it away.

“Care to test me,” d’Artagnan responded softly with just a hint of threat in his voice.

“Stupid I’m not,” Jehan retorted. “Arming you would be a mistake on my part.” He stood up and swayed to the left slightly from all the wine he drank. “I’m thinking of striking up a bargain with Louis for your life.” He eyed the lad disdainfully. “Wonder what the going rate is for petite Gascon brats?”

Deciding to ignore the man’s snide remark, d’Artagnan drew closer to the fire as the night had grown chillier. Having been disarmed of his weapons, he would bide his time and choose his own moment to escape having thought more on the matter that his friends may not get here in time. That was one thing he remembered Jean-Armand had taught him… when to choose his battles.

“I figured it would be worth my while to delay getting to Calais if His Majesty can line my pockets with some gold coins,” Jehan grinned. “But before I turn in for the night I want a little entertainment first.” He called out to two of his men who appeared as if by magic at Jehan’s side. “Take d’Artagnan and tie him to that tree over there so that his back faces me.”

Struggling against the two men, d’Artagnan couldn’t find the strength to break free as both malandrins were as big as Porthos and twice as strong. Finding himself slammed up against the bark of a tree, d’Artagnan knew what Jehan had in mind.

Bringing out a whip from his saddlebag, Jehan touched it lovingly as his hand glided up and down its length. Gazing at the boy, his eyes lit up with malice as he drew the whip back and snapped it toward d’Artagnan.

Knowing it was coming and feeling it were two totally different things as d’Artagnan heard the whip hissing through the air. When it struck him, he bit his lips until they bled. He would not give Jehan the pleasure of hearing him scream out in pain, d’Artagnan would rather die than do that. His back was on fire as Jehan kept striking out at him. Feeling the blood pouring from the stripes on his back, d’Artagnan could feel the breeze of the night’s air through his shredded shirt as well. He knew that if they were not treated d’Artagnan could fall ill from infection. Losing count of how many times Jehan had raised the whip to him, he couldn’t help but push the man’s buttons even further. “Louis will not pay for damaged goods, Jehan!”

Considering the lad’s remark, Jehan dropped his hand holding the whip. Tapping it lightly against his leg. “You do have a valid point,” he laughed briefly. “Then again, Louis needn’t find out he’d be forking out money for a carcass.” Chuckling he left the boy alone still tied to the tree.

Feeling lightheaded from the loss of blood, d’Artagnan’s stomach also felt like rebelling as he tried not to spew his guts out. In the position he was in now, he’d end up covered in his own vomit. Trying to stay awake, he was startled by a gentle touch on his face. Trying to twist his head to the right, d’Artagnan was shocked to find himself looking into a pair of green eyes belonging to Milady. “What...” he didn’t get his words out as she pressed her fingertips to his lips.

“I’m getting you out of here now,” Milady had silently killed four of the men near d’Artagnan's position. Jehan had been too preoccupied torturing the boy to notice his men were missing. Since it was dark enough, she knew they wouldn’t be seen sneaking out of the camp. “I couldn’t chance getting to you before Jehan decided to take his whip to you. For that I’m very sorry. But I’ve got your horse and mine ready. Just lean on me if you don’t feel too steady.” Milady finished cutting d’Artagnan from the tree and quietly they made their way to the horses. She had them tied up a distance from the camp.

As they rode away, d’Artagnan struggled to stay upright in his saddle. Still he had questions that needed answered. “How came you to be in Jehan’s camp?”

“I not only work for King Louis but Cardinal Richelieu as well,” Milady replied as she rode abreast of the boy. She was afraid he’d fall off any minute and wanted to catch him if she were able. “I was on assignment for the cardinal as a spy in Jehan’s camp,” she chuckled low. “That fool thought I was a simple thief like him,” Milady scoffed.

“Will you ride with me to where I left my friends?”

“Lead the way,” Milady smiled with curious eyes at him. “May I ask what bad blood is between you and Jehan?”

“I will explain this to you along with my brothers when we arrive at our destination,” d’Artagnan closed his eyes as a wave of pain made itself felt. He knew Aramis was going to have a fit when he saw his back. Not to mention Porthos and Athos’ reactions.

“That’s if you don’t pass out first,” Milady cocked her head as she studied d’Artagnan's strained features.

“I’ll remain awake,” d’Artagnan retorted with determination lacing his voice.

“Tis a lengthy tale then,” Milady surmised. “From Jehan’s tone he holds no love for your or our king.”

“Milady,” d’Artagnan sighed, “that is a gross understatement which you’ll discover when I reveal some of my past.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

++++

Musketeer campsite

Riding into the camp, d’Artagnan was surprised to see his friends still caught up in their bonds. As he wore his doublet they would not notice his injury, so d'Artagnan acted like everything was normal as he gently teased them after carefully dismounting Zad. “Tsk, tsk,” he stayed steady on his feet as he walked over to them, wearing a cocky smile. “Couldn’t any of you free yourselves?”

Relieved d’Artagnan was alive and well, Athos replied wryly. “Apparently not.” He was back to back with Aramis, their hands twisted behind them and tied with yet another rope binding the two of them together tightly. Porthos was likewise tied but to a tree.

While d’Artagnan cut through the thick ropes, Milady appeared by his side. The darkness hid her features from view as she asked, “Need any help?”

When she came closer to d’Artagnan, Athos was able to see the boy's companion. To find out it was a woman was a surprise in itself but his mouth fell open and his eyes widened in astonishment when Athos saw her face clearly. “Anne?”

“Hello, Athos.”

++++

More French proverbs or sayings:

Tout vient a point a qui sait attendre - English Equivalent: All things come to those who can wait

Un jour sans vin est comme un jour sans soleil - English Equivalent: A day without wine is like a day without sunshine

Mieux vaut etre seul que mal accompagne - English Equivalent: Better to be alone than in bad com


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

 

_Musketeer’s campsite_

“Anne?” Athos’ voice sounded incredulous as he gazed at the woman he had long ago divorced after finding her in a compromising position with his younger brother Thomas. “How come you to be here of all places?”

After d’Artagnan finished cutting the ropes, he moved aside to make room as Aramis and Athos stood up. He then went over to free Porthos, all the while wondering how Athos knew Milady. He wasn’t a fool, d’Artagnan could tell immediately there was something between those two.

“Oh, just call me a good samaritan, Athos, and leave it at that,” Milady easily sidestepped him to join d’Artagnan.

Knowing her wily ways, Athos observed how close Anne stood near the youngster. She was years too old for the boy and couldn’t keep his mind from thinking perhaps those two were lovers already or had been at one point. They seemed more than comfortable with each other for his liking.

“Your back needs tending,” Milady reminded d’Artagnan as he turned a stubborn face toward her. She held out a steadying hand as the boy threatened to topple over. “If you won’t ask for help I will,” Milady hissed, her breath coming out in tiny puffs of air as the night had grown quite cold and she already noticed a chill had taken hold of d’Artagnan as he had started to shiver. “Monsieur Aramis!” she called out, waiting for the man to come over. Suddenly the Musketeer, and sometime medic, appeared before her. “D’Artagnan’s hurt and I think a fever already has him in its grip.”

Then it made sense to Aramis why the pup had gone quiet and had stopped teasing them the minute d’Artagnan had cut their bonds. Taking hold of the lad’s chin he could see the glazed brown eyes at once as well as feel the heat of fever through his gloved hand. “Where?” Aramis asked the pup forcefully. And as d’Artagnan slowly struggled out of his doublet, throwing it over at Porthos to catch, he turned around so that his back was in view. Aramis sucked in his breath at the lad’s bloody, shredded shirt. “Merde!”

Having been completely blindsided by his ex-wife’s appearance in his life, Athos shook himself out of his stupor and instantly appeared beside d’Artagnan. A cold rage filled Athos at the sight of abuse the younger man had suffered. “Mon dieu! I’ll kill Jehan for this atrocity!” Turning around to head for his horse, Athos was held back by d’Artagnan’s carefully controlled voice.

“Leave... be... Athos.” D’Artagnan then was helped to lay down on some soft blankets Porthos had spread out near the fire for him. “When the time comes,” he hissed in pain while Aramis applied disinfectant on his wounds, “Jehan is mine.”

Exchanging concerned looks from both Porthos and Aramis, Athos bit back an oath and knelt beside d’Artagnan. “Aramis?”

“D’Artagnan has a slight fever,” Aramis’ voice was strained as he stemmed the flow of blood from several deep whip marks on the child’s back. “But he should feel much better come morning once I apply my salve on d’Artagnan’s torn flesh.”

Focusing his attention back on Anne, Athos’ lips thinned into a fine line. “Did you perhaps just stumble upon Jehan and his merry band of cut-purses?” Athos sneered.

“I do not owe you any explanations, de la Fere,” Anne snapped, trying not to be louder than necessary for fear of disturbing the boy.

“Athos, cease,” d’Artagnan begged from his position on the ground, laying flat on his stomach while Aramis still administered his miracle salve on him. “She got me out of Jehan’s camp... that should count for something in your eyes. I know it does in mine.”

“It does with me too,” Porthos spoke up, just as upset as the rest of them at the whelp’s poor treatment at the hands of that stinking canaille.

Trying to turn on his side to observe Milady and Athos, d’Artagnan wondered at the name she had called Athos by. So directing his gaze on her he asked, “Why did you call him de la Fere?”

“That’s his true name,” Milady smirked. “Gentlemen,” she chuckled, “may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Comte Olivier de la Fere.” Milady nearly laughed out loud at the comical expressions that crossed the other men’s faces. “Oops!” she covered her mouth with a hand as her eyes locked on to that of her ex-husband’s, “did I let the cat out of the bag?” Milady knew Athos wasn’t going to elaborate his status to his comrades anytime soon so she did it for him. “I guess I should say... former comte as well as being my former husband.”

Speechless, d’Artagnan looked up at Aramis whose busy hands froze in mid air momentarily as he took in her words. “Seems becoming a Musketeer is only an excuse for hiding away from the rest of the world,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly as Aramis slowly nodded his head in agreement.

“Eh, the whelp’s right on the money with that,” Porthos eyeballed Athos’ irritated face and huffed in annoyance. “Didn’t ya think that Aramis and I wouldn’t have understood? That why ya left us in the dark about your past all these years we’ve fought and bled together?”

“My apologies for trying to keep my private life just that - private!” Athos growled, not really meaning to strike out in anger at his friend... just the damning situation he now found himself in.

“I find it rather amusing that you swept me under the rug like so much dirt and garbage, mon cherie amour,” Milady shook her head sadly at Athos’ perturbed look as it darkened in anger.

“Ya know,” Porthos’ voice rumbled deep as he interrupted the tense atmosphere, “as lovely as your reunion is turning out to be,” he laughed and heard both Aramis and d’Artagnan’s own soft snorts of amusement, “I’m one of finding out about this rat’s ass Jehan.” Throwing a pointed look over at Athos, Porthos had one more thing to add. “We can discuss your status of nobility and marriage when we return back to the garrison.”

“What say you, lad,” Aramis asked, wiping the remaining salve off his hands with a towel. “Up to explaining things to us?”

Sighing, d’Artagnan stayed where he was, resting his chin on folded arms as he stared into the campfire’s warm blaze. “I was only twelve years of age, but Jehan had been a fixture at the Louvre well before my arrival years prior,” d’Artagnan paused as he was seized by a sharp pain in his aching back.

“I’ll make you a draught for the pain,” Aramis patted their youngest on the arm gently and rummaged through his saddlebags again.

“Jehan was the personal guard of Louis’ and I thought that meant he could be trusted,” d’Artagnan remembered how wrong he was in that regard. “Il ne faut pas se fier aux apparence.” He knew his words stunned all but Milady, for surely she would have already gleaned some knowledge of Jehan’s background having worked for Louis, Jean-Armand and Richelieu.

“But I never could shake the feeling that there was something sinister lurking behind his eyes, even though Jehan had been a valued Musketeer for a considerable amount of time,” d’Artagnan bit his lip as memories whirled around in his head. “I was using my minimal skills I had up to that point in helping me find interesting undertakings within the palace for Louis,” d’Artagnan turned his head sideways and caught Athos’ avid interest in what he was about to divulge. “I took to following Jehan about and watched his activities closely. It paid off when I discovered the man had a weakness for priceless jewels.”

“Pilfered did he?” Porthos winked at the pup as he added more branches to their campfire and stoked it until it cast a warm glow encompassing them all.

“Jehan felt that Louis could have been more generous to him than he had been since Jehan was Louis’ personal guard,” d’Artagnan continued staring into the fire as he remembered his confrontation with the then Musketeer, wishing he had even an ounce of skill back then as he did now... the outcome would have resulted in a different ending.

“The day I discovered Jehan in Louis’ personal treasury was the day I nearly died,” d’Artagnan admitted solemnly as he heard Athos swear softly.

“Ne touchez pas aux blessures gueries,” Aramis remarked as he handed the lad the pain draught he had finished preparing for d’Artagnan.

“Let him finish the story, Aramis,” Athos glowered at his friend, the latter held out his hands to placate him but he wasn’t in the mood to be calmed down now, not after what d’Artagnan had just revealed.

“Jehan did not take kindly to discover I now knew about his thievery and took his sword to me,” d’Artagnan closed his eyes briefly as the pain draught was beginning to make him drowsy.

“You were a mere chiot!” Aramis exclaimed in disgusted outrage.

“Still is,” Athos muttered quietly, hearing Anne’s amused laughter mingled with Porthos’ loud snort.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan agreed with his friends. “Still, chiot or not, Jehan didn’t care. All he knew was that he had been found out and needed to silence my tongue. I had not yet developed enough skills at that age to safely defend myself against his attack plus, at the time, I was unarmed when discovered.”

“I’d like to rip his throat out!” Porthos growled fiercely. Inside he hurt for the boy he had grown to admire.

“Get in line!” Aramis was ready to murder Jehan the minute he clapped eyes on him again.

“I had no where to run as Jehan had blocked my only avenue of escape and he managed to skewer me with his blade,” d’Artagnan winced, whether from his back or the memories he was bringing to the fore even he didn't know. “Since my back now bares the brunt of Jehan’s entertainment you cannot see the mark he left on me that day. Suffice it to say that his rapier cut a path from my shoulder blade to my waist, leaving me to die there in a pool of my own blood.”

“I am now firmly at the head of that line, Aramis mentioned.” Athos’ sharp words caught everyone’s attention as his fists clenched tightly, wishing he could torture Jehan as the former Musketeer had tortured d’Artagnan... then and now.

“There is no line,” d’Artagnan reminded them all. “He will answer to me when the time comes now that I know Jehan is in the area again.”

“Who came to your aid back then?” Anne questioned, arching a delicate eyebrow.

“Jean-Armand somehow found me before I bled to death and carried me to my room. Louis was frantic and had his personal physician sent for, and ultimately that doctor saved my life. But I had a slow recovery which worried both my guardian and Jean-Armand more than I would have liked.”

“Babied ya did they?” Porthos grinned, knowing that’s how they felt about d’Artagnan themselves, even though the whelp could well take care of himself. He won’t bother pointing out today’s backslide though. Everyone was a might outnumbered this time around.

Nodding his head at Porthos question, d’Artagnan glanced at Athos’ impassive face. Wondering what thoughts ran through Athos' mind as d'Artagnan exposed one of his darkest secrets.

“Needless to say Jehan got away,” Athos asked, though it sounded more a statement of fact.

“As a disgraced Musketeer, oui,” d’Artagnan stopped as a huge yawn escaped from his lips, “and a wanted fugitive.” His eyelids were growing heavy and as he closed them once more, this time d’Artagnan gave up his struggle to stay awake. As Aramis' draught took hold, he fell deeply asleep.

“Let the whelp rest,” Porthos sat down beside the boy. “I’ll watch em’.”

“Well, Madame, “Athos glared at Anne, “What’s your part in all this?”

“I’m d’Artagnan’s contact in the Court,” Anne replied cooly as she too joined Porthos in his vigil over d’Artagnan. “I’ve worked for His Majesty and Treville for some time now. Cardinal Richelieu as well," she added.

“Oh parbleu!” Athos didn’t think he could take many more shocks this night and still remain upright. He wished himself back in Paris getting drunk out of his mind!

“I was in Jehan’s camp as a spy for the cardinal when he returned with d’Artagnan in tow,” she huffed. “Had to change plans rather hastily if I wanted the boy to live another day.”

“My gratitude for the lad’s life,” Athos said stiffly.

“Don’t hurt yourself admitting that,” she snickered back.

“Well I’ll right thank ya for rescuin’ our whelp here,” Porthos smiled kindly at her.

“I as well,” Aramis grinned.

“It would seem that our mission to deliver our package in Cerdagne is not going to take place now,” Athos announced tiredly. “Getting our young one safely back home is of grave import.”

“I agree with your decision, mon ami,” Aramis said. “As I am sure the king would too under the circumstances.”

“Do you ride back with us?” Athos faced Anne’s unwavering stare.

“Of course,” she smiled. “I have to answer to the cardinal after all.”

“We have extra blankets in our saddlebags and I will make a nice soft bed for you to rest the night in,” Aramis doffed his hat to her as he headed for Belle.

“Someone has manners,” Anne murmured, shooting a sideways look at Athos.

“Aramis is like that with all women,” Athos commented dryly.

“Perhaps Aramis could give you some pointers,” Anne mused. “You are sadly lacking in them.” She got back up and walked away from him then, deciding to help Aramis with the blankets.

“That’ll be the day,” Athos scoffed and went to take the place Anne had just vacated. He could watch over d’Artagnan just as well as she or Porthos. Tomorrow they would all head back to Paris and Athos would have to sort his past out with his brothers.

++++

_Notes:_

French proverbs or sayings:

_Il ne faut pas se fier aux apparence_ \- English equivalent: Appearances deceive

_Ne touchez pas aux blessures gueries_ \- English equivalent: It is not wise to open old wounds


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end.
> 
> ++++

  
_Musketeer garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Standing by a wall that was almost entirely covered by a topographical map, Treville folded his arms as he listened to Athos' explanation of why the package never made it to Cerdagne. When he heard Jehan's name mentioned, Treville hissed slowly. He had hoped never to hear that dreaded man's name again. What worried him the most was how young d'Artagnan fared. As Athos gave him details of the lad's capture and treatment at Jehan's hands, Treville's heart fell to his feet. "The boy was brought immediately to the palace?"

"Oui," Athos replied. "We helped the youngster back to his room where Aramis and the king's physician are tending to d'Artagnan's back."

"Milady was with them as well?" When his lieutenant hesitated, Treville began to worry anew. "Athos, I asked you a simple question. Do me the courtesy of answering it and not with a song and dance routine that Aramis usually gives me."

"Milady told us she had business with Cardinal Richelieu," Athos nearly choked on his words. Just thinking of his ex-wife could still cause him grief and many a sleepless nights as well.

"What troubles you?" Treville liked to think he knew the men under his command well. The one standing before him took a little coaxing when he first met Athos, but eventually Treville prided himself on becomng a close confidant of the younger man. Someone Athos could come to with his problems, even though Treville knew Athos was a private individual and liked to keep things close to his chest. There were several instances in the past when Athos had seeked Treville out to unburden himself of his worries.

"Remember, long ago I once told you the story of what led me to coming here to become a Musketeer?"

"Of course," Treville nodded. "But what has that to do with this situation?" He leaned against the wall now with one hand bracing himself against it, his hand beating a tattoo on the map.

"You know her as Milady," Athos whispered as shame filled him. "But in truth she is my ex-wife Anne."

"Mon dieu!" Treville could only react in shock as he noted Athos' gaze flinch away from his own. "All these years Louis and I worked with her," he looked at Athos with agonized eyes, "I never knew."

"How could you, sir?" Athos started to pace the office like a caged tiger. "I never noticed her comings and goings to the palace," he huffed and briefly stopped his roaming to remove his hat, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Certainly if I had seen her I would have informed you immediately."

"You mentioned d'Artagnan told you that Milady saved his life?"

“Anne cut him free and help d’Artagnan to their horses that she had hidden away,” Athos stared down at the floor. “For that I am in her debt.”

“As am I,” Treville agreed readily. “And so will Louis be as well.”

“I would like to go check on the pup if you don’t mind, Captain,” Athos appeared uncomfortable now that he had revealed to Treville one of his greatest secrets.

“Come, we shall go together.” As Treville and Athos left the office and headed down the stairs, Treville shared a brief look with his lieutenant. “I fear Louis will be angered greatly upon who dared take our boy from us.”

“The only reason Jehan kidnapped the lad in the first place was because d’Artagnan thought he was watching out for the three of us.” Athos knew it would come out eventually so he wanted Treville prepared for the fallout.

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Treville sighed, wondering if his badgering the lad paid off but not quite in the manner he would have envisioned.

“Prior to Jehan’s arrival, we were set upon by a group of malandrins,” Athos could see the tightening of the captain’s lips as he divulged this bit of news. “Afterwards I had to give d’Artagnan a stern lecture on covering his brother’s backs as the boy failed to come to our aid during the fight.”

“Ah!” Treville smiled ruefully. “I tried to tell him numerous times about the ramifications of working on a team.”

“The whelp thought offering himself up to Jehan would save the rest of us.” Athos still remembered his fear watching d’Artagnan leave with the canaille until the darkness swallowed him up.

“And you understandably not realizing that Jehan and d’Artagnan had known each other probably were weighed down by misguided guilt.” Treville didn’t hear anything more offered from Athos on the subject and thought to add one more thing. “Know this, Athos, no matter what had happened back at the camp, once Jehan saw d’Artagnan he meant to take him from you whatever the cost to losing his own men in the process.”

“With the skill set that child has, no way d’Artagnan would have let himself be so easily taken if not for his concern over his brothers,” Athos spat, finally letting go of the anger that had been building inside him.

“That poor youngster’s back has once more been scarred by that canaille’s hands,” Treville growled just thinking upon d’Artagnan’s suffering.

“Tis to be hoped that between the treatment Aramis gave our pup at the camp, along with the doctor’s care, that d’Artagnan’s back won’t be too awfully marred.”

“We’ll soon find out,” Treville nodded to the guards as he and Athos entered through the palace doors.”

_D’Artagnan’s room_

“How could this have happened?" Louis whined as he wrung his hands nervously, pacing back and forth. His wife Anne had not moved from d’Artagnan’s bedside since the young man had been brought in.

“Louis, you’re wearing a hole in my carpet,” d’Artagnan tried to tease his guardian as it took his mind off his own pain. He heard Aramis’ amused chuckle from from somewhere off to the side, d’Artagnan couldn’t be sure as he was once more laying on his stomach while Doctor Devereaux was tending to his back. “Is that you laughing too, Doctor?” d’Artagnan smiled, though the effort was great.

Leaning down, Devereaux spoke softly to the lad. “Oui, but don’t tell the king?” That clearly was the correct thing to say as d’Artagnan’s body shook with mirth and not from the agony of his wounds.

“Are you not taking this seriously?” Louis shouted, making Anne jump slightly as she turned to rebuke her husband, then thought better of it. It was not a time to have a family argument she thought.

“It’s my back that’s been harmed, Louis,” d’Artagnan’s eyes closed as he winced from Devereaux’s ministrations as the doctor applied a different type of ointment to the whip marks, “not my ears.” When he opened his eyes again it was to encounter Anne’s amused ones.

“If Jehan is back in the area, d’Artagnan, I don’t care how able a fighter you are,” Louis looked down at the boy he considered as a younger brother in all but blood. “You will not leave the confides of the palace or the garrison until Jehan is captured or worse.”

“Jehan was on his way to Calais until he ran into me,” d’Artagnan pointed out. “Could be he still is.” Looking into Louis’ hardened countenance, d’Artagnan heaved a great sigh. “Since he accidentally found me, Jehan thought it a feather in his cap to have some fun and get some money out of it into the bargain.”

“Thanks to Milady’s efforts that did not happen,” Aramis added while handing some bandages over to the doctor.

“Now that Jehan nearly had you in his grasp I doubt he’s heading for Calais now,” Louis snapped in anger. Seeing Anne give him a reproving look he tried to calm himself down.

“On a que ce que l’on merite,” d’Artagnan shrugged Louis’ anger aside. “No matter what you say as soon as I’m able I will find him and end the matter between us once and for all,” d’Artagnan yelped as he felt Aramis give him an ungentle slap on his rear. Twisting around to glare at the man, d’Artagnan encountered a most innocent expression on Aramis’ suave face. “Try that again I dare you,” he hissed.

“I approve,” Louis smirked, not having missed the exchange between Aramis and the child.

“One thing’s for certain,” d’Artagnan said, “Milady got me out of Jehan's miserable clutches and saved you from losing some money from the treasury when Jehan was going to ransom me." He watched his guardian tap his foot nervously, whether from thoughts of the harm Jehan had caused d'Artagnan or concern that Louis would have had to dip into the crown's funds to ensure d'Artagnan's safe return. “I’m sure the cardinal would have loved you handing over any amount of coin for me," he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“D’Artagnan,” Anne murmured quietly in warning, knowing how the youngster and the cardinal barely tolerated each other. Though it was mostly all on the cardinal’s side. She couldn’t fault the boy since all he did was react to the way Richelieu treated him. "Was it Jehan's intent to kill you, d'Artagnan or just wound you," Anne never could understand how Jehan had turned on them all.

"I believe Jehan was undecided what to do with me," d'Artagnan scoffed. "At first he was happy just to torture me for his entertainment." He knew his comment hurt Anne as tears filled her eyes. "Then he made a remark to me that had me thinking my life could be forfeit."

“If Jehan was going to end your life,” Louis’ anger renewed at the mere thought of that bastard hurting his ward further, “how did he think I’d pay him?”

“He’d lie to you making you believe I was still alive and all you’d be doing was paying for my corpse.” Hearing Anne’s quiet gasp, d’Artagnan reached out and clasped his hand in her own feeling it gently squeezed back.

“We nearly lost you to him all those years ago,” Louis stamped his foot like a small child who doesn’t get their way.. “I refuse to have a repeat performance! L’historie se repetete.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Treville as he entered with Athos and Porthos flanking him. When Treville caught sight of d’Artagnan’s mutilated back, he swore softly in deference to the queen’s presence.

Porthos, who had caught up to both Treville and Athos as they were about to enter the palace, joined them since he was just as determined to see the whelp. Upon seeing the mess that was d'Artagnan's back, Porthos growled low startling Queen Anne.

“Please do not lecture me, Jean-Armand,” d’Artagnan glared over at him. “I could choke on the number of them I’ve had lately,” his pain-filled eyes flicked toward Athos. “Did anyone bother to find out what happened to Milady after we got here?”

“Still with Cardinal Richelieu,” Louis responded, his lips tightened fractionally. “I knew she wasn’t working for us exclusively, but Milady kept it to herself about being in the cardinal’s payroll.” His eyes caught and held those of Jean-Armand’s. “We will talk about this later.”

“Would it be possible that I may speak with my friends in private?” d’Artagnan peered over his shoulder to make eye contact with Louis as his guardian wasn’t in his line of sight any longer. “There are some matters that were left up in the air and are in need of being cleared up.”

“Oh all right,” Louis grumbled. “Anne and I will come back later to check on your condition.” Holding out his hand, Louis waited for Anne to take it but not before his wife placed a gentle kiss on top of the youngster’s head.

When only the Musketeers remained in the room, d’Artagnan, who was finally allowed to sit up in bed with the help of Aramis, stared directly into Athos’ concerned blue eyes. “Now how come you to be divorced from a woman who looks like a green-eyed angel?”

Glowering at the pup, there was really only one response that Athos thought applied to his ex and angel definitely didn’t fit into the category. “Because Anne’s le diable’s mistress.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis was sitting on the bed beside the boy, “perhaps this is a touchy subject to speak of for the moment.”

“All right, how’s this one,” Porthos spoke up. “How come you didn’t tell us you were a comte?”

Looking like he was ready to pull every hair out of his head, Athos was resigned to knowing that an explanation was called for. “After finding out I was a cuckold husband, I kicked my brother Thomas out along with Anne, bag and baggage. Then I cleaned house, disowning him and divorcing her,” he shrugged. “Thought that put an end to my happily ever after.” He saw nothing but sorrow for him reflected in his friend’s faces, and despite d’Artagnan being their newest member, the lad looked terribly upset on Athos’ behalf. “I figured I’d start fresh. Put all of that behind me,” he smirked. “What better way than to become a soldier in His Majesty’s service.”

Feeling there was much more to the story than Athos divulged, the remaining men left anymore questions for another time.

Yawning hugely, d’Artagnan kicked Aramis off of the bed to stretch out more fully under his blankets. “Bedtime story over for now,” he glanced over at Athos sleepily. “Think I will try and get some rest before Louis comes to nag me.”

“All right, d’Art,” Porthos grinned, leaning over to ruffle the whelp’s hair. When d’Artagnan rolled his eyes at Porthos’ gesture the bigger man just laughed and headed for the door.

“We will look in on you tomorrow, d’Artagnan,” Aramis winked at him, laying a hand on top of the lad’s head. He then followed Porthos out.

Being last to leave, Athos slowly approached the youngster. “I know you want retribution over what was done to you... now and in the past. But do not carry out your vengeance with a hot head or try to do it alone.”

“Is this your way of saying goodnight,” d’Artagnan huffed. “Because if it is, you’re really bad at it.”

Smiling, Athos dipped his head. “Until tomorrow then. Have a good rest, d’Artagnan.”

Impatiently waiting for Athos to leave, it wasn’t until d’Artagnan heard the sound of the door closing that he whipped the covers off. Unsteady on his feet at first, d’Artagnan felt lightheaded but that lasted only a few seconds until he got his bearings. Reaching his closet, d'Artagnan retrieved his cuirass. Knowing his back was going to be extremely sore until it healed, d’Artagnan reached for some cloth that was left behind by the doctor and wrapped it in such a way that it padded his back enough so the armor wouldn’t bother it. At least he hoped so.

Afraid to wait much longer, d’Artagnan knew that Jehan was probably going to cut his losses and ride to Calais as he had planned. He didn’t want that great a distance growing between himself and the ex-Musketeer. Making a weapons check, d’Artagnan was satisfied everything was in order. Slipping his hood over his head, d’Artagnan headed for the secret passage behind his bookshelf. Turning one of the books downward caused a mechanism to hiss/click and made the bookshelf open easily, letting d’Artagnan slip past to travel down the hidden tunnels.

++++

_King Louis’ state room, two hours later_

“Louis!” Anne cried out as she burst into the room interrupting a conversation between her husband and Jean-Armand. “He's gone!”

“Who is gone, mon amour?” Louis’ brows drew together as he frowned at her, upset at being disturbed while engaged in a serious conversation with Jean-Armand.

“D’Artagnan!”

++++

_Notes:_

Proverbs/French Sayings:

_On a que ce que l’on merite_ \- English Equivalent: What goes around, comes around.

_L’historie se repetete_ \- English Equivalent: Something that has happened once can happen again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

  
_Athos apartment_

The sounds of loud knocking interrupted Athos as he relaxed with a good book on historical military strategies. Putting his book down, he grumbled all the way to the door. “This better be good.” Barely opening it up, Aramis and Porthos pushed their way past Athos. “Do come in,” he announced sarcastically. But when he closed the door and turned to face his friends, Athos could tell how greatly disturbed they appeared. “What has gone wrong this time?” his tone dry as dust since nothing ever seemed to be done in half measures by any of his friends.

“Queen Anne went to check on d’Artagnan just a little while ago and discovered that the lad’s taken off,” Aramis explained, huffing in exasperation over their disobedient chiot.

“Yeah, the whelp went and lit out on all of us once our backs were turned,” Porthos agreed. "Had no intention of resting," he was angry because their youngest lied to all of them.

Brows drawn tightly together Athos frowned in bewilderment. “How did the boy manage to get out of his room without being detected? There were two guards posted right outside d’Artagnan’s door."

“He didn’t leave the normal way,” Porthos grunted.

“I’m sorry,” Athos glanced at him as if Porthos had grown two heads, “is there any other way to leave ones room?”

“Pup’ s room contained a secret passageway,” Porthos snorted. “Perfect for the spy he is.”

“Ah!” Athos nodded. “I should have known that," he sighed. "The Louvre has many hidden tunnels running throughtout it."

“Captain wants us to track the whelp down,” Porthos was more than concerned for their youngest's fate. The lad was hurting with that back of his, and no matter how well trained the child was, fighting injured was a distinct disadvantage. He should know, having done it himself more times than he cared to remember.

Aramis’ worry was from a medical standpoint as well. Knowing d’Artagnan’s back needed time to heal, he realized that all his and Devereaux’s hard work would be for naught if d’Artagnan’s whip marks get infected for this ultimate act of stupidty. Though he pushed back from his own mind the times that his own _stupidity_ made him do the very same things in the past.

“Aramis, make sure you have your medical supplies packed.” Athos was angry at d’Artagnan’s actions this night. Though he understood what motivated their young one, it didn’t make it right. “The lad may need your help when we catch up to him.”

“Already done.” Aramis hurried out on the heels of Porthos, leaving Athos to lock up behind them.

++++

Luck had been on his side, when only after a few hours d’Artagnan came upon Jehan’s latest campsite. He did another quick weapon’s check, making sure his throwing stars were accessible if needed and that his daggers were at the ready as he entered the forest.

Leaving Zad far enough away from the camp, d’Artagnan silently got as close as he was able and with careful aim took out several of Jehan’s hirelings with his crossbow.

Sneaking up on another canaille, d’Artagnan pulled out his garrote and snuffed the light from the eyes of another cut-purse. D’Artagnan could easily take out the entire camp since it was mostly made up of riffraff and ruffians, unskilled ones at that. But all he needed was to dispatch the ones closest to where Jehan was located.

Jehan, having no idea what was happening, slept peacefully near the blazing campfire. Feeling the coldness of a steel blade near his throat, Jehan’s eyes instantly snapped open in alarm to stare up into the face of a hooded figure.

Placing a finger to his own lips, d’Artagnan hissed low a warning. “One word… just one and I slit your throat here and now.”

Eyes widening in recognition Jehan got up from his bed on the hard ground.

“I took out quite a number of your men just now, but I want this to remain just between the two of us,” d’Artagnan prodded Jehan with the tip of his sword until they were both well away from the encampment.

Determining he was far enough away from the camp, d'Artagnan felt it safe enough to stop. Under the light of a glowing moon he slipped his hood off and smirked at Jehan while the other man took stock of d'Artagnan's cuirass.

“Not your typical Musketeer uniform,” Jehan remarked offhand.

“Tonight I’m not here as a Musketeer,” d’Artagnan sneered at the man who had haunted his dreams for many a year. “Tonight this ends things between us.”

“You my judge, jury and executioner now,” Jehan scoffed. “I’m not to be thrown into the Chatalet then?”

“The Chatalet’s too good for scum such as you,” d’Artagnan remarked cooly.

“I have no weapons to defend myself with,” Jehan studied the youth and noted d’Artagnan’s feral grin, then he began to feel slightly concerned until the boy threw something at Jehan. Seeing what it was, he reached out a hand and deftly caught the sword flying toward him.

“You shall be called to account for your many crimes against the crown… and me,” d’Artagnan snarled, sounding more like a wild animal than a young man.

Chuckling, Jehan grinned at the lad. “You always were vivadious,” he shook his head. “But the flaw in your plan as I see it,” Jehan laughed louder, “is that you’re still a mere babe in arms, mon garcon.”

“And you are nothing more than an unscrupulous highwayman,” d’Artagnan countered.

“Comparaison n’est pas vaison,” Jehan spat. “I do what I have too to earn some ecus or pistoles,” Jehan’s harsh laughter rang out again. “I’m not choosy which side pays me.”

Smiling, d’Artagnan’s lips quirked. “A chaque fou plait sa marotte.” Slowly d’Artagnan approached his enemy. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed at all.”

“A peste on you, chiot!” Jehan lunged at d’Artagnan with a violent sword thrust that the boy easily parried.

“Parbleu!” d’Artagnan cried out as his own sword clashed against Jehan’s as steel met steel. He could feel the strong vibration from the force of his strike running up his arm, winding its way down his back making d’Artagnan feel the whip marks as never before. Aramis was going to kill him when he returned. “Is that all you’ve got?” Goading was second nature to d’Artagnan and he wanted to see if he could enrage Jehan to such a state that the man would make a mistake.

“I’ll return you to the great Jean-Armand du Peyrer Comte de Troisville in a pine box, whelp!”

“Jean-Armand doesn’t go by that old family name any longer, as you well know.” Feinting to his left, d’Artagnan waited for Jehan’s next move which was not long in coming as the malandrin lunged at d’Artagnan viciously.

“Vendre son ame au diable is a poor bargain, Jehan.” D’Artagnan disengaged as he began an attack in one direction, then quickly moved the point of his blade down in a semi-circle to attack a different location. This tricked Jehan into blocking the wrong direction, resulting in d’Artagnan taking a nice chunk of skin from Jehan’s side. “So I’m a mere chiot am I?” d’Artagnan’s young laughter rang out in the night air.

Trying to parry against the boy’s attack, Jehan failed miserably and hissed in pain as he felt blood seeping from his wounded side. His counter attack wasn’t successful either and as frustration mounted within him the sloppier his blade work became, earning him numerous cuts to his person but none life threatening as yet.

“Come, mon faquin,” d’Artagnan taunted.

“Zut!” Jehan shouted as he began to tire.

“Your age is beginning to show,” d’Artagnan sneered, flicking his blade near Jehan’s face. “We’ve barely begun.”

“Fer me la bouche!” Jehan’s patience snapped in that moment. “I’ve had enough of your childish prattle!”

“Did you not think there would one day be a reckoning between the two of us?” Finally d’Artagnan wore Jehan down and when the other man fell he took full advantage as he kicked the blade out of his opponent’s hand. Placing his foot on Jehan's chest as the canaille laid on his back, d’Artagnan slowly smiled. “Then there’s all those crimes you’ve committed to be considered as well,” d’Artagnan reached for his pistol tucked in his belt. “De la mesure dont nous mesurons les autres nous serons mesures.”

“End this!” Jehan ordered roughly, realizing that the whelp was the better fighter this day.

“For now... Oui,” d’Artagnan agreed with a sharp nod. “On your feet!” he ordered. “I’ve changed my mind about ending your life by my hand. I feel watching you lose your head more appealing than running my blade in your gut.”

“Merde!” Hearing what d’Artagnan had planned did not sit well with Jehan. To die by the sword was a death he preferred rather than facing Louis and His Majesty’s judgment. Losing what little self control he had left, Jehan charged at d’Artagnan.

Surprised, d’Artagnan watched as Jehan came at him with a sharp poignard. Whipping out his throwing stars he went for the coup de gras as d’Artagnan accurately hit his mark. He observed Jehan’s astonished face look down at the stars attached to his chest gushing blood. When the man dropped limply to the ground, d’Artagnan approached the dying man. “Brule en enfer,” he spoke softly.

Shortly after Jehan took his last breath, d’Artagnan heard the sounds of riders. Not sure if it was the rest of Jehan’s band of cut-purses he cautiously hid in the shadows to wait. But then d’Artagnan recognized the voices and stepped back out to be seen.

“Mon dieu!” Athos slipped from Roger’s back to run over to the boy’s side. “I could shake you until your brains rattle inside that stubborn Gascon head of yours!” he yelled.

“I take it I’m in trouble?” d’Artagnan winced at how Athos, Porthos and Aramis scowled at him.

“If you’ve damaged your back further with this childish display I’ll... I’ll,” Aramis was so upset he couldn’t finish his tirade.

“Aramis is right, whelp!” Porthos was just as displeased as his friends. “You had us all right beside ourselves with worry and that don’t even begin to cover how Their Majesty’s are feelin’,” he added gruffly. Glad that the youngster seemed relatively unscathed.

“I see you’ve had satisfaction,” Athos looked on Jehan’s lifeless body as nothing more than a mere nuisance to be disposed of.

“I couldn’t risk him leaving Paris for Calais and you know it, Athos,” d’Artagnan groaned quietly as his wounded back reminded him all was not well. Biting his lip to hide the pain, he was afraid Aramis would blow a blood vessel if he even guessed that his back was bleeding again.

Not missing d’Artagnan’s distress, Aramis immediately got his medical kit from his saddle bags. Clucking the whole while about disobedient chiots and stubborn Gascons. “Take off your gear so I can take care of your back.” He held up a finger waving it under d’Artagnan’s nose. “And don’t try and tell me your fine! Because I know differently!”

Seeing indecision clearly written all over the young features, Athos placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “I’d listen to him if I were you,” he spoke low. “Remember, he’s the one who patches us up when we’re on a mission.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “Ya don’t wanna get on the wrong side of Aramis and a needle, d’Art,” he chuckled as Aramis threw them all a dirty look.

When the pup finally capitulated, Aramis was pleased to see the extra cloth d’Artagnan managed to cover his back with. “At least you showed some sense,” he muttered. Still he could see that the once white cloth was now covered in bloody stains. The lad’s fight had obviously aggravated the wounded stripes on his back.

“How much trouble am I really in with Louis and Jean-Armand do you think?” Glancing at the inseparables, d’Artagnan held his breath waiting for an answer. When it came he couldn’t say he was surprised... much.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Athos drawled, “fifteen would be my guess.”

++++

_Notes:_

Since I used so much of the French language in my story, once more I’ll translate them for you.

_Merde_ \- equivalet for Damn.  
_Zut_ \- express anger  
_Mon dieu!_ \- My God  
_Pistoles_ \- Spanish gold coin  
_Ecus_ \- French coins  
_Malandrin_ \- Brigand  
_Faquin_ \- Wily rascal  
_Poignard_ \- Dagger  
_Mon garcon_ \- My boy  
_Canaille_ \- Scoundrel  
_Coup de Gras_ \- to finish or bring to an end an event  
_Vivadious_ \- Lively in temper/spirit  
_Ferme la bouche_ \- Shut your mouth  
_Brule en enfer_ \- Burn in hell  
_Vendre son ame au diable_ \- To sell one’s soul to the devil  
_Chiot_ \- Puppy  
_Peste_ \- Plague  
_Parbleu_ \- equivalent of For God’s sake  
_Cut-purse_ \- Cutthroat  
_Comparaison n’est pas raison_ \- Comparisons are odius

_Proverbs/French sayings:_  
_A chaque fou plait sa marotte_ \- Every fool is pleased with his own folly  
_De la mesure dont nous mesurons les autres nous serons mesures_ \- Whatever measure you deal out to others will be dealt  back to you


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Notes below
> 
> ++++

 

_Royale Palace_

“Please,” d’Artagnan begged, could all of you _for once_ be quiet?” he hissed while unsteadily making his way down the hall with help from Porthos. “I’d like to make it to my room without running into _you know who_.”

“Too late!” a rough sounding voice announced loudly, echoing off the ornate palace walls.

Rapidly spinning his body around to face the person who spoke, d’Artagnan felt a wave of dizziness assail him. Threatening to tip over in an undignified heap, d’Artagnan was caught up in Porthos' strong arms. “My thanks, but you can put me down now.”

Grinning into the whelp’s pain-filled eyes, Porthos shook his head. “I feel it’s safer for you ta travel this way,” he winked.

“I promise if I’m ready to faint at your feet I’ll let you know,” d’Artagnan gave him the *puppy eye treatment*. He was surprised that it actually worked when Porthos lowered him down. Then Aramis approached him and with the tip of his finger lifted up d'Artagnan's chin. Staring into the dark brown, concerned eyes filled with sympathy, d’Artagnan worried what their marksman had to say. He already was more than concerned about the consequences that were already hanging over his head like an executioner's blade. Trying to put off the moment d’Artagnan had to face the man the voice belonged too as much as possible, he waited for Aramis to speak.

“You have to pay the piper sometime, lad.” Aramis own anger at the pup still lingered but he had to admire the boy’s spunk in going after his old foe. "He has a right to be angry with you as we all do," Aramis' warm smile helped soften the blow he knew was about to fall on top of d'Artagnan's young head.

Sighing, d’Artagnan realized Aramis was correct. Looking over at Porthos and Athos, he understood why they all had been upset with him earlier. Turning he faced Jean-Armand’s ire. “Apologies for my behavior,” ducking his head d’Artagnan was unwilling to see the disappointment that would be surely etched on his long-time friend’s features.

It was clear for Jean-Armand to notice how d'Artagnan wobbled back and forth on shaky legs. The longer he watched the lad lean into Porthos, his expression turned fierce. “You’ve collected _another_ injury on top of the one you already have?” he yelled out, not caring who he made jump out of their skin in his fury. “Mon dieu! What the deuce are Louis and I to do with you?” He had removed his hat and ran a hand through his already thinning hairline. At this rate Jean-Armand felt he'd be bald by the time d'Artagnan came of age.

“May I point out,” Aramis neatly butted in, “that it’s the same injury this time.” Seeing Treville glower back at him, Aramis clamped his mouth tightly shut.

“Grant you the boy didn’t heed common sense in this instance,” Athos drawled, trying to come to d’Artagnan’s defense to a degree but was interrupted by his fellow brother.

“That’s if d’Art had any ta begin with,” Porthos snorted, adding his two cents in for whatever it was worth.

Shooting Porthos a cool look, Athos continued. “As I was saying, d’Artagnan knew better but was afraid, and rightly so, that Jehan would head to Calais and thus the lad would lose any opportunity for revenge.”

“Don’t even try to defend this disobedient chiot!” Treville snarled at Athos as he slowly stepped toward the youngster. For each step he took, d’Artagnan retreated two more until Jean-Armand laughed inwardly when the boy couldn’t go any further as d’Artagnan bumped into Porthos' rock solid body.

“Sir,” Aramis quickly intervened upon seeing that their captain was just this shy of committing murder. He felt that d’Artagnan had spilled enough of his own blood this night and couldn't afford to spare anymore if Treville decided to take a bite out of the lad. “I need to have Doctor Devereaux look at the whelp’s back again.” Aramis shot a quick look at Porthos silently commanding, with an arch of his eyebrow and a tilt of his head, for the other man to leave and go fetch the doctor. “The fight our youngest had with Jehan re-opened his wounds,” he noticed Porthos had not moved a muscle yet. “My fine needlework went to hell in a handbasket!” he huffed.

“Jehan?” Treville snapped, wanting to know if that canaille still lived.

“Dead,” Athos replied curtly, “by d’Artagnan’s hand.”

“Porthos,” Aramis hissed, peeved that his silent signal sailed right over Porthos’ head.

“What?” Porthos grunted, out of sorts with how Treville was acting.

“The doctor?”

“What about em’?”

Removing his hat Aramis lashed out at Porthos, giving him several good whacks with it. “Get him!” he shouted impatiently.

“Merde! Why didn’t ya say so in the first place?” Porthos growled and trudged away. "I ain't no mind reader."

Aggravation filled his features as Aramis’ gaze locked with Athos’, who nodded his head slightly at the medic and bent his head down so low that all Aramis could see was a partial shadow of Athos’ face hidden by his friend's hat.

Wanting to laugh but afraid to do so, d’Artagnan watched Porthos stomp off. Peeking at Jean-Armand’s steely-eyed look, he pointed down the hallway. “Ummm,” he licked his lips together, “I... er... that is... I was just heading for my room when we came in.”

“I know exactly where your room is!” Jean-Armand glowered at the younger man, watching the boy pout. That look would not work on him this time as it had done so many times in the past.

“I thought Athos’ glower was bad,” d’Artagnan mumbled under his breath. Hearing both Aramis and Athos chuckling, he turned his head slightly and encountered their amused faces. And since everyone was treating him like an enfant terrible, d'Artagnan acted like one and stuck his tongue out at his two friends.

“If your back wasn’t such a blasted mess,” Jean-Armand shouted, gaining d'Artagnan's attention back as the boy put a finger in his ear and winced, “I’d turn you over my knee and give you a sound thrashing you’d never forget!”

“I’m eighteen years of age!” d’Artagnan hollered, stomping his foot in anger, then wished he hadn’t as once again he felt the vibration go clear up into his back making him grimace in pain. Ignoring his discomfort he added, “Anyway, Louis and Anne wouldn’t let you get away with it.”

“I think you are wrong in that belief, d’Artagnan,” Louis declared as he and Anne joined everyone.

“Hallways a might cramped for this type of conversation,” Aramis muttered, leaning into Athos’ shoulder. Silence from his stoic friend was all he received.

“Louis,” Anne chided gently. “D’Artagnan’s hurt. Do not be so unkind.”

Lifting a brow, Louis appeared incredulous. “Forgive me, mon cherie, but wasn’t it you who after discovering d’Artagnan had vanished ranted for well over an hour about boxing his ears when you got your hands on him?”

Blushing, Anne opened and closed her mouth more than once uttering not a sound. When she caught d’Artagnan’s astonished face, her own turned even redder than before. “I was beside myself with worry for your welfare.” Walking up to the child, Anne wrapped him in a comforting hug. It was in this embrace Anne felt the heat radiating from d’Artagnan’s body. Pulling back slightly she placed a hand on the youngster’s face. “Aramis, get him to bed quickly and give him one of your draught’s for fever while your at it," she ordered.

“Merde!” Aramis should have realized that a fever would have set in by now. Everyone was concentrating too damn much on yelling at the lad first. Inwardly chastising himself for not checking for fever right away, Aramis guided a suddenly swaying d’Artagnan to the pup’s room with Athos' help.

“I was not done scolding him yet,” Louis told Anne indignantly.

Tugging on her husband’s arm, Anne’s concerned gaze followed the other men down the hall. “Come, you can pretend you’re the one in charge while in d’Artagnan’s room.”

++++

_D’Artagnan’s room_

Settled in his bed, d’Artagnan laid on his stomach once more. Head pillowed on his arms, he heard Athos' voice close to his ear.

“Familiar position, eh?”

“Shut up,” d’Artagnan fired back half heartedly, hearing Athos' quiet snicker.

Once Louis stepped into the room, he started in on his ward again. “You were not in any shape to go tearing after Jehan and yet you did anyway,” he stood beside Jean-Armand and crossed his arms. “Apparently the sound advice of our doctor went through one ear and cleverly out the other,” Louis frowned down at the youngster. “D’Artagnan, your life is precious to myself, Anne, Jean-Armand, your brothers and more people in Paris than I can count,” he sat down on the edge of the bed near where d’Artagnan’s head rested. “Were you so ready to throw your life away in this vendetta and forget the rest of us left behind?” he paused for a second to hold back his own tears that threatened to fall. Knowing that there were more than just family present, Louis kept his tears in check. Kings did not cry in front of their own Musketeers, but thinking upon what he could have lost this night it was hard not to do so.

“Il n’y a point d’homme necessaire,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly. “Besides, I knew I’d win.”

“Overconfidence has killed many a man,” Athos pointed out to the lad.

“You, chiot,” Jean-Armand snapped, “are not a man yet!” Silence reigned for over a minute after his pronouncement. “And at the rate you’re going you may not reach the ripe old age of twenty one years to make even that claim.”

Waiting a beat, Louis cleared his throat seeing that Jean-Armand had stunned d’Artagnan into silence. “Knowing you are injured still will not sway me in my decision for your punishment.”

“It was my right to avenge the wrongs Jehan had done to me,” d’Artagnan snarled, not caring his tone sounded disrespectful.

“Oui,” Louis nodded. “Though if you had given your back a little more time to heal you could have had your revenge still, thus not causing us undo worry when taking off the way you had.” Louis felt the weight of Anne’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “There will be no more missions for you for at least a month’s time, perhaps even longer depending upon my mood.” Seeing d’Artagnan about to protest, Louis regally held up his hand. “Nor will you set one foot outside the garrison compound.”

“Rather harsh, wouldn't you say?” Aramis whispered in Athos’ ear.

“It is a just punishment.” Athos' eyes darkened remembering how upset he was earlier upon finding d’Artagnan and wanting to shake some sense into their hot headed youth. Athos thought that His Majesty actually was taking it easy on the lad. Observing Treville, he knew their captain would probably have d’Artagnan mucking out the stable stalls for the duration of the whelp's sentence. So the next words that came out of Treville’s mouth confirmed what Athos had accurately predicted.

“And when you’re well enough,” Trevilled glared at the boy, “I’ll have a list made up of your duties around the garrison,” he finally allowed a small smile to cross his face. “One in particular I know you have a fondness for," he added sarcastically.

Moaning, d’Artagnan turned his head away from Jean-Armand and Louis to bury it in his pillows.

“Why, d’Artagnan,” Aramis laughed, “mucking out the stalls will build up your muscles.”

“Vous etes plein de merde,” d’Artagnan retorted scathingly.

“My, my,” Aramis teased, “such language from a mere chiot.”

“Actually, d’Artagnan,” Athos smirked, “it will be the stables that are plein de merde.” The look the chiot sent him could have incinerated Athos on the spot.

Scowling at everyone now, d’Artagnan’s irritation grew while glancing around the room from his uncomfortable vantage point on his stomach. “Go away, do!” he yelled.

“We will once Porthos returns with Devereaux,” Jean-Armand remarked sourly. “Aramis, will you stay and lend the doctor your expertise when he arrives?”

“But of course.” Aramis smiled and then turned around at the sound of the door opening, more than relieved to finally see Porthos enter with Devereaux. Noticing both men were loaded down with medical supplies, Aramis instantly went over to help.

The room felt off somehow to Porthos as he took in the tense faces everyone wore. Joining Athos, who stood near d'Artagnan's bedside, Porthos cocked his head slightly studying his friend. “I miss somethin’?”

“Tempers flared,” Athos quietly admitted. His blue eyes ever watchful as Aramis helped the doctor start the pain-staking procedure of stitching back up d'Artagnan's open wounds. “Once d’Artagnan’s well enough he is to be confined to the garrison and no missions for at least a month,” Athos explained.

“The whelp couldn’t have liked that none,” Porthos grimaced seeing Aramis and Devereaux tending to d’Artagnan. Having been on the receiving end one too many times himself, Porthos knew what being stitched up felt like.

“It gets worse,” Athos' eyes twinkled. “Treville gave d’Artagnan stable duty with a laundry list of things the boy is going to be doing around the garrison to boot.”

Porthos' great bark of laughter filled the room and had every eye focused on him in curiosity. “Tout est bien que finit bien,” he managed to choke out.

“For now, mon ami, for now,” Athos smiled.

++++

_Notes:_

French proverb/sayings:  
_Il n’y a point d’homme necessaire_ \- English equivalent: No man is indispensable

_Tout est bien que finit bien_ \- English equivalent: All is well that ends well  
_____

Translation: _Vous etes plein de merde_ \- You are full of shit


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Garrison Courtyard_

Finally after days of being stuck in bed, d'Artagnan was allowed out of the palace but, was warned in a tone that brooked no argument from Louis, to not even set one foot outside the garrison. D'Artagnan hated that he was being treated like an adolescent child.

No sooner had d'Artagnan entered the courtyard he was approached by Jean-Armand who held a piece of paper in his hand. Waving it in front of d'Artagnan's face, he snatched at it and without looking at the paper knew what it contained. "My orders for the week?" his sarcastic tone was not missed by Jean-Armand who simply smirked back at him.

"For the day," Jean-Armand corrected as he watched the boy's face fall when d'Artagnan then began reading all the items on the list he had meticulously written. "I figured if you were well enough to loom in the hallways of the palace and roam about the garrison that you'd be fit enough for those light duties I thoughtfully made out for you."

This time it was d'Artagnan waving the paper in the air ike a red flag to a bull. "There has to be at least ten things here!"

"Actually there are exactly twelve," Jean-Armand grinned and patted the lad on the shoulder. "Have to keep you out of trouble, son."

"Is this anyway to treat someone convalescing?" d'Artagnan whined, rolling his large doe eyes for full effect. Unfortunately though it was wasted on Jean-Armand.

"Those are light duties," Jean-Armand explained patiently, though what little patience he had left went out the window concerning the boy a long time ago. "Wait til you see the ones Louis and I worked on for when you really feel up to it." With a wink in the child's direction Jean-Armand walked away humming a jaunty tune as he headed back to his office, satisfied that all was right in his world for at least this moment.

Seeing Jean-Armand waltzing away without a care, d'Artagnan shook his head in disgust. Whether it was at himself or his guardian and Jean-Armand combined, d'Artagnan couldn't say. Heaving a heavy sigh, d'Artagnan glanced down at the single sheet of paper dangling from his fingertips, might as well start on the first order of business.

++++

_Stable_

After brushing Zad down, d'Artagnan made sure he was watered and fed just as he had done for the inseparable's mounts. After he finished, d'Artagnan started thinking and when he usually did that things always turned more interesting.

++++

_Courtyard_

"What the deuce does Gilles think he's doin'?" Porthos poked Aramis in the side with a hard shove to get the other man's attention. "He right looks like he's hangin' off his horse like he was on a drunk."

Rubbing at his bearded chin, Aramis had to agree with his friend. "Treville sees that Gilles will be in trouble."

"Someone help me!" Gilles cried out as he was nearly off his horse entirely.

At Gilles shout for help, multiple pairs of hands were trying to catch the horse to prevent it from unseating its rider. But Gilles' panic had been felt by his mount which made it skittish. The Musketeers trying valiantly to stop it only made the horse rear back. So when Gilles finally went flying off he was lucky to be caught in Porthos' strong arms.

Watching from the safety of the stable entrance, d'Artagnan grinned at the first bit of mischief he created by  not tightening the cinch of Gilles' saddle. He knew what an excellent rider the Musketeer was and had not feared the other man would be hurt by his little prank. Rubbing his hands together, d'Artagnan was now a man on a mission as he went to pay Serge a visit.

++++

_Canteen_

"What the hell's in this soup?" Pierre spit out the liquid onto the hardwood floor before he swallowed anymore. "Mouth feels like it's on fire."

There were many more complaints after that by other Musketeers which had poor Serge going from table to table hearing the same story repeated. Running back into his kitchen, scratching his head, he approached his stove. Dipping the ladle into the steaming pot, Serge took a sip of it himself and immediately spit it out.  "Mon dieu! Tastes like hot sauce instead of beef broth." He had to get himself a glass of water to cool the inside of his mouth, though it did nothing for his stinging lips or watery eyes.

Smiling to himself, d'Artagnan slipped out the back door of the kitchen before he was noticed.

++++

_Armory_

"Does anyone know where our extra cache of weapons are?" Barthelemi glanced over at Athos' questioning gaze along with Macere and Lazare looking just as dumbfounded.

"This was a fully stocked armory as of last night," Athos snapped. "Evidently we had a thief break in here," his lips tightened. "Our security is lax, gentlemen! It had better improve or many of you will end up on parade duty for the next month!" Eyeing each of the men present, Athos paced back and forth in front of them. "Locate either our culprit or the weapons, I do not care which! But do it NOW!" he ordered, trying to keep his ferocious temper in check. Striding outside, Athos didn't observe d'Artagnan's slim figure leaning against the side of the armory.

++++

Courtyard - practice area

"How can I hit my target when it don't stand up long enough for my dagger to make contact?" Porthos growled, storming over where the target laid flat on the ground for the fourth time in a row. Kneeling down, Porthos examined the legs of the stand their targets rested on. Getting back to his feet, Porthos walked over to where Aramis and Athos stood idly by watching him let off steam.

"I shoulda checked sooner but thought it the wind or somethin' messin' about with the target," Porthos glanced over his shoulder at where it laid. Folding his arms, Porthos frowned. "Now I know why it kept doin' that."

"Are you going to share your vast wealth of knowledge with us or do we have to hazard a guess ourselves?" Athos stood there in front of the larger man, impatient for Porthos to divulge what he had figured out.

"Someone sawed into the wood near the bottom to weaken the stands so that they kept fallin'," Porthos grunted. "I get a hold of the scallywag behind this..." he trailed off his tirade when Porthos spotted d'Artagnan nonchantly walking over to them.

"How's your day been going?" Aramis asked. He had been privy to what Treville and the king had cooked up between them, courtesy of Athos having told himself and Porthos earlier.

"Moving along just fine," d'Artagnan chuckled. Innocent as the day was new, he briefly glanced down at the target. "Having problems are we?" his gaze locked on Porthos' angry, dark eyes.

"Don't get me started," Porthos marched away, muttering to himself about the dire consequences facing the upstart who was behind this devilment.

"Evidently the spirits are plaguing us today," Aramis announced sincerely while crossing himself.

"Bah!" Athos snorted. "You blame everything unexplainable on your damn spirits!"

Bumping shoulders with the boy, Aramis grinned at him. "Pay no attention to Mr. Grumpy over here. His nose is just bent out of shape because the armory's been robbed."

"I had heard something pertaining to that going around the garrison a little while ago," d'Artagnan effectively kept up his act when all he wanted to do was howl in merriment. This is what happens when someone, shall we say Jean-Armand in particular, gives him trifling orders to contend with. D'Artagnan knew he was fit as a fiddle and should be allowed to go on missions with his brothers. Damn his punishment to hell and back he thought! "I shall be on my way as I still have a number of items on my list that still need my attention," he smiled pleasantly and waved goodbye to Athos and Aramis as he turned to leave, whistling softly as he went.

"Doesn't the lad appear a trifle too happy to be doing those chores?" Aramis had a thought niggling at the back of his brain and was afraid to voice it out loud for fear of Athos' reaction, not to mention their captain's.

Studying the pup as he left them, Athos wore a cross expression. "Forgive me," he glanced at Aramis who seemed otherwise preoccupied, "but I was under the impression that d'Artagnan was upset about the duties he had been given."

Since Athos brought it up, Aramis moved closer to his brother remarking suspiciously, "You don't think..." he never finished as Aramis heard Athos swear.

"Merde! I'll strangle the whelp with my own two hands if I discover the boy was behind today's calamities!" Athos was this close to racing after d'Artagnan and dragging the pup back to the palace to face the king's wrath. But he wasn't positive the lad was the person they were seeking.

Having heard the two men, Porthos also had begun to wonder at how cheerful d'Artagnan appeared considering he's stuck at the garrison for at least the coming month without any missions on the horizon. "Il n'y a pas de fumee sans feu."

"Gentlemen," Athos spoke quietly, "we need to gather proof."

++++

_Notes:_

French Proverb/Saying:

 _Il n'y a pas de fumeee sans feu_ \- English Equivalent: Where there's smoke, there's fire.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Gathering at the canteen_

“So far, all the things we thought d’Art did… he didn’t,” Porthos offered. “Found out from Serge that the boy who usually helped him in the kitchen knocked over the bottle of hot sauce and the contents spilled into the pot.”

“And the weapons that had gone missing were moved into another area of the armory that no one bothered to check,” Aramis added with a disgusted pfft.

“Oui,” Athos nodded, “I had heard,” he replied acidly, still not believing that d’Artagnan hadn’t been behind those shenanigans.

“Gilles approached me later and stammered out an apology,” Aramis added.

An arch of a brow was all the indication Athos gave as he stared at his friend in surprise.

“Well I asked him why are you apologizing and he told me for not checking his tack better,” Aramis snorted. “By then Gilles was pretty shaken up,” Aramis shrugged. “Gilles had been in a hurry to carry an important letter for Treville and thought perhaps he just hadn’t properly secured the cinch.”

“Which leaves our pup in the clear,” Porthos rubbed at his beard. “Even findin' out the old, busted targets had been put out by mistake... I’m still not buyin’ it.”

“Neither am I,” Athos glared into his empty coffee mug, pushing it aside, then abruptly stood up. “But if we do not have evidence we cannot in all good conscience accuse d’Artagnan.”

“By the way, where did the lad get off too?” Aramis looked at both his brothers for the answer.

“Treville gave d’Artagnan quite a list to do today,” Porthos replied with a light laugh. “Figured he’d be busy gettin’ those things done.”

“Mmmmm,” Aramis hummed softly. “Perhaps, then again, perhaps not,” he laughed lightly.

“One way to find out,” Athos headed for the door. “I will see if our captain has been keeping tabs on d’Artagnan’s whereabouts today.

++++

_Royal Gardens_

“This goes against my punishment for you but something of grave import has occurred and I need you, d’Artagnan,” King Louis turned his head to look at the woman standing beside his ward, “and you as well to pull this off.”

“What has happened, sire?” Milady asked, not wanting to beat about the bush waiting.

“I have been informed that Comte Emile Dawnay is working for Spain,” King Louis then began to pace in front of the silent pair. “This cannot continue! He is a traitor to France!”

“You wish us to...” d’Artagnan reached out to touch Louis’ arm to halt the man’s pacing, “what? Bring him in or kill him?”

“Ever to the point, d’Artagnan,” Louis acknowledged with a wry grin. “Either of those will suffice,” he threw the lad a look they had once shared long ago in the past when he had more or less ordered d’Artagnan to do that very same thing. “Dawnay will end up either hanging or losing his head anyway, that will be my choice to decide."

“I find that my so called _friends_ of late are traitors to the crown!” King Louis spat in disgust. Dawnay was a man that he had counted as a close friend. He was furious to find out that the comte was in bed with Spain now.

Exchanging a worried look with Milady, d’Artagnan asked his guardian, “where is Dawnay now?”

“His chateau’s located in Picardy,” Louis glanced at the youngster as d’Artagnan worried his lower lip. That always told Louis that the lad was uncertain of the mission. Still, he wouldn’t press the boy about it for now.

“That’s roughly over a two and a half day ride,” d’Artagnan glanced at Milady again. He couldn’t gauge her reaction since her expression was blank. “What do you propose, Louis?”

“That you both go undercover as lovers,” Louis noticed d’Artagnan turn pale. As far as Milady was concerned, Louis thought he saw her lips twitch, suppressing her mirth at the child’s reaction.

“No disrespect, Milady,” d’Artagnan murmured softly and then his expression soured as he stabbed Louis with a hard look. “She’s quite a bit older than I am,” he hissed. “Who would believe that story?”

“Everyone knows that older women take much younger men for their lovers,” Louis laughed at d’Artagnan’s naivete.

“I make d’Artagnan feel uneasy, sire,” Milady took pity on the youngster and tried to smooth things over for the boy with his guardian.

Folding his arms, Louis frowned as he stood in front of his ward, impatiently tapping his foot the entire time. “You’ll have to overcome your feelings in this matter for this plan to work.”

Rolling his eyes at Louis, d’Artagnan mirrored his guardian’s stance perfectly. “I’ll work on it," he remarked firmly.

“That’s more like it!” Louis was pleased and clapped the lad on the shoulder.

“What’s our cover names to be?” Milady asked, thinking this could be fun on her part. Observing d’Artagnan’s pouting face, not so much for him though.

“You will both pretend to be from the County of Dammartin, the central plain of France.” King Louis didn’t see a flicker of emotion from either of them and continued. “D’Artagnan, you will be Jacques Allegre and Milady will pose as the widow Contesse Jeanne Bissette,” Louis chuckled finally noticing d’Artagnan’s brows rise high.

“I will enjoy my elevated status, Your Majesty,” Milady grinned.

“Quite so I’m sure,” King Louis was pleased with at least her reaction. “Your deceased husband was Comte of Dammartin, Eudes de Dammartin to be exact,” seeing her face pucker in concern, he held up a finger. “Do not worry about your cover story. Comte de Dammartin is dead and had no living relatives to disprove your claim, and I doubt anyone would bother going to the trouble of going to Dammartin since it’s located in the region of Goele, a small district of Meaux in the department of Seine-et-Marne.”

“You’ve really done your homework on this one,” d’Artagnan remarked dryly, followed by a chuff of laughter.

“Indeed!” Louis lifted a royal brow as he glared back at d’Artagnan’s doubtful face. “Tis a sound plan,” he poked a finger in the boy’s chest. “ _Don’t... foul... it... up_.”

“As if,” d’Artagnan rolled his eyes once more, leaving the rest unsaid. This had always been their usual disagreement between each other whenever Louis sent d’Artagnan on a mission he wasn’t sure was ideal. D’Artagnan should be used to it by now though.

“When do we make ready?” Milady fingered her choker she always wore around her neck like a talisman.

“You both will depart in a day’s time,” King Louis announced. “I want things with Dawnay nipped in the bud as soon as possible.”

“Are we to travel by carriage considering the elevated status you gave Milady?” d’Artagnan smirked.

“Of course,” Louis nodded, grinning like a cat who had just caught his prey in both paws. “You’re both dismissed,” he waved his hand, watching as they left his presence. The boy dragged his heels and kept glancing back at him scowling. Well, Louis thought, d’Artagnan hadn’t enjoyed past assignments… this would be just one more he’d have to come to terms with.

_Notes:_

Comte of Dammartin, Eudes de Dammartin was a real person but liked the sound of his name and where he was from and thought I'd use it in my story. So I have no idea if he really contributed anything significant to the history of France. LOL!


	16. Chapter 16

_Same day, early evening_

_Porthos' apartment_

"I hear ya! Quit yer hammerin'!" Porthos yelled out at the ceaseless knocking upon his door. He was going to give the infernal pest on the other side a bruised jaw after he opened it. He had finally gotten off guard duty and had been taking a nap when Porthos was rudely awakened by the racket. Yanking the door wide Porthos drew back his fist ready to lash out until he was struck dumb by the sight of d'Artagnan standing anxiously in front of him. "Come in, lad," he ushered the pup inside.

Clearly d'Artagnan could tell this had not been a good time to seek Porthos' advice. "Apologies, I didn't realize," d'Artagnan paused as he continued to stare at the large man dressed only in his overlong nightshirt, "you were asleep."

"Got off guard duty a short time ago," Porthos grunted, "and before that was training the men in hand-ta-hand."

Feeling awful, d'Artagnan instantly whirled around heading back towards the door until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"None of that, whelp," Porthos yawned and blinked bleary eyed at him a few times. "Ya came ta see me for a reason and I ain't lettin' ya leave until ya tell me what that was."

Getting permission to stay, d'Artagnan found himself spilling out his dismay, giving Porthos an earful of his latest mission. "So do you think I should inform Athos?"

Rubbing both hands down his sleep deprived face, Porthos didn't think it helped in waking himself up any, but he heard loud and clear what the boy was being sent to do. Knowing Milady was Athos' ex-wife put a different spin on things and Porthos certainly understood why d'Artagnan was upset. "Yeah, pup, I think ya should."

"I needed someone else's objective opinion," d'Artagnan bit his lip nervously. "My thanks for listening and helping me figure out how to handle this."

"Ya need me ta go with ya, d'Art?"

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head gratefully. "You've done more than enough just by being here for me," he laughed. "Don't be surprised if later you're woken up again by a mighty roar."

"Aye," Porthos chortled. "I've been on the receiving end of Athos' displeasure one time too many myself," he winked at the whelp. "Bon la chance!"

Feeling like he'd need it, d'Artagnan gave Porthos a weak smile in return. "Merci, mon fre're."

_Athos' apartment_

"Bonsoir, d'Artagnan," Athos stepped aside to let the youngster in.

"Apologies for disturbing you." His eyes fell on a small table near the fireplace that held an open book along with a glass of wine sitting on it. Wincing, d'Artagnan closed his eyes realizing he had again intruded on another friend's relaxation.

"I always can make time for my friends," Athos placed a hand on the child's arm and led d'Artagnan over to a chair opposite his own. "Now," Athos cocked his head to the right, "what troubles bring you to my doorstep?"

Blurting out his news, d'Artagnan's eyes were downcast, afraid to meet his idol's own.

"King Louis does not yet know that Anne and I used to be married to each other so has no idea how awkward he had made this assignment for you."

"Even when I first met her at the _Court_ there was something about her that made me wary," d'Artagnan admitted. "If I have to put a name to it then," he glanced briefly into Athos's blue eyes, "oui, scared even."

"Shows you have good instincts, chiot," Athos smiled kindly at the younger man. "That's an excellent weapon for any Musketeer to have." He went to fetch another bottle of wine and a glass for d'Artagnan. After pouring them both a generous amount, Athos pushed the glass toward the suddenly quiet boy.

"Let's see," Athos rubbed at his chin as he mulled things over. "if Anne's cover is that of a contesse then she should have her own bodyguard present," he smirked, "as well as her very young lover." He was amused at the blush that appeared on d'Artagnan's expressive face.

"You would do that for me?" Pleased that Athos was not mad at him, or Louis for that matter, d'Artagnan breathed easier. "I will have to go talk with Louis about this but do not see a problem with him going along." Observing Athos calmly drinking his wine, d'Artagnan smiled and stood up. "Since we have tomorrow to prepare before our departure I better go see Louis now."

"Very well," Athos stared at the wine swirling in his glass and grinned. "This should prove an interesting and entertaining venture," he glanced at the lad standing near the door, "and won't it be a nice surprise for Anne?" Listening to d'Artagnan's delightful laughter as the pup waved goodbye to him made Athos chuckle. His dear wife was in for an unpleasant shock.

_Two days later_

As d'Artagnan surmised Louis thought it an excellent idea to have a guard present to add to their cover story, making it appear more real. Plus the addition of another person could only help them if they ran into trouble along the way. So it was with these thoughts roaming about in his head that d'Artagnan awaited Milady's appearance as he leaned against their coach with arms folded. When he spotted her coming towards him d'Artagnan had to admit she was breathtaking decked out in her exquisite gown, dripping in lace and adorned with jewels, which d'Artagnan assumed Anne had lent her. She looked every inch the contesse she was supposed to be. Bowing before her, d'Artagnan offered her a cheeky grin. "You are a vision, Contesse Bissette."

Hitting d'Artagnan on the chest with her fan, Milady rolled her eyes. "We're supposed to be lovers so you better just get used to calling me Jeanne."

"Of course," d'Artagnan nodded, held out his hand for her to take and helped her into the coach. Boy was she in for a surprise d'Artagnan thought as he jumped in joining her.

Once Milady settled herself in the seat to her satisfaction, her smile slipped from her face as she couldn't help but notice Athos sitting opposite her. Gazing back and forth between d'Artagnan and her ex-husband, a frown marred her attractive face. Stabbing the boy nestled close beside her with a cool look, Anne hit him again with her fan quite hard.

"Ouch!" d'Artagnan rubbed at his right arm. "What was that for?" As if he didn't already know but d'Artagnan was starting to enjoy himself.

Pointing her fan at a smirking Athos, her voice laced with sarcasim. " _Protection_?" Anne raised one delicate eyebrow.

" _Insurance_ ," d'Artagnan countered easily. His eyes immediately locked onto Athos' twinkling ones. It would seem that his friend had decided to enjoy himself at his ex's expense.

"Against what for heavens sake?" Anne was quite put out and didn't care that the men with her knew it.

"Against anything you may try on d'Artagnan that would be against the lad's wishes," Athos' knew his dry tone was not lost on her.

"Pffft!" Anne blew a piece of wayward hair out of her eyes. "He's eighteen and can decide for himself whether he wants my attentions or not."

"See, d'Artagnan," Athos sighed woefully, "Anne did have other plans besides helping you bring down Comte Dawnay."

"Oui," d'Artagnan agreed, turning in his seat toward her. "I knew you would obey Louis' orders but felt concerned you would try your wiles on me. It made me most uncomfortable thinking upon that since Athos is my brother and I wouldn't want to disappoint him in any way."

Making a strangled sound in her throat, Anne glared at both of them as she threw up both arms and cried out, "Men!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end.
> 
> ++++

_En route to Picardy_

“You two think you’re so clever,” Milady sneered as her green eyes hardened the more she gazed into Athos’ twinkling eyes.

“I rather thought it was an intelligent decision on d’Artagnan’s and my part,” Athos retorted dryly, suppressing the urge to cover his mouth and chuckle. Why make the trip anymore uncomfortable than it already was.

“You can’t stand guard twenty four hours a day, Athos,” she snapped, quite displeased with the current state of affairs. Milady realized d’Artagnan wasn’t interested in her _that_ way but she was more than interested in him. There had to be a way around Athos and she’d make sure to take advantage of it the first opportunity she had.

“Cannot we _all_ get along until we arrive at our destination?” d’Artagnan pleaded, desperation in his tone. He used his puppy dog eyes to their full advantage hoping it would work.

Sighing, Milady slumped back in her seat, eyeing both men rather sourly. “Our journey cannot come to an end soon enough for me,” she muttered.

Silently agreeing with her, Athos tipped his hat forward, sat back in his seat and pretended to be resting.

Which left d’Artagnan shifting in his seat to stare strangely at Milady.

“Why do you look at me in that manner?” she snapped.

“What do you find attractive about me?” d’Artagnan was genuinely puzzled. Milady was a most beautiful, older woman and he wasn’t anything special as far as he was concerned.

“Fishing, d’Artagnan?” Milady tilted her head as she studied the youngster.

“Huh?”

“Parbleu! Surely, you know how handsome you are?”

Blushing, d’Artagnan looked away from her. He was afraid to say anything more for fear that Athos truly wasn’t asleep.

“It’s really going to feel like a long trip,” Milady grumbled, fluttering her fan at her face.

++++

_A few days later they arrive at Comte Emile Dawnay’s Chateau_

Jumping out of their carriage, d’Artagnan helped Milady out and valets magically appeared to help them with their luggage.

“Impressive,” Milady mused as she gazed at the comte’s chateau. “Spain pays well it would seem.”

“Remember,” d’Artagnan whispered, “we are guests here by invitation for one of Dawnay’s soiree’s that he’s known for.”

“Oui,” Athos nodded. “The mentioning of Spain would not be the done thing to do,” he arched a brow and nearly laughed out loud at Anne's glowering glance back at him.

“A girl just can’t have fun anymore,” she quipped.

“We each have our roles to play,” d’Artagnan winked at them both and held out his arm for Milady to take. “Allons-y.”

Comte Dawnay greeted his guests at the door. Reaching out for Milady’s hand he pressed a light kiss upon it. “If I had known such beauty existed in Dammartin I would have visited long ago, Contesse Bissette.”

“I’d prefer you to address me as just Jeanne, Comte,” Milady purred and fanned herself.

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan leaned toward Athos. “What a puffed up popinjay.”

“Careful, chiot,” Athos smirked, “you almost sound like a true jealous lover.”

Scowling, d’Artagnan backed away from him and went to stand beside Milady. Clearing his throat to make himself known, he nudged her in the side.

“Oh... oui,” Milady tapped d’Artagnan’s cheek, “this is my young companion, Jacques Allegre.”

Looking the boy up and down, Dawnay appeared blase. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, mon garcon.” He shook the younger man’s hand. “And who is this gentleman behind you, Jeanne?”

“That’s my bodyguard Athos,” she announced drolly.

“Are you afraid of being attacked on my premises?” Dawnay felt slighted if that were the case.

“Non,” Milady shook her head. “He goes wherever I do,” she explained. “Athos was in service to my cherie Eudes, may he rest in peace,” she sighed, pretending to still be the grieving widow yet with her young lover by her side.

“Ah! I understand,” Dawnay smiled at her. “And I would prefer if you would call me Emile, s’il vous plait.”

A dour look crossing his face, d’Artagnan glanced sideways at Athos. Gripping Milady’s arm, they followed the comte inside his home.

++++

“Diantre!” Milady exclaimed as she looked around at the decor. “What a delightful place this is!”

“I enjoy it,” Dawnay escorted them into the main hall. “It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” he lowered his voice, _“one of many I’m afraid.”_ Seeing he brought a pretty smile to her face he pointed toward the stairs. “My servants will now show you to your rooms so that you may all refresh yourselves.” He glanced back at the boy again with a frown.

Seeing the look, Milady thought she’d put the comte straight. “We shall only need one room for Jacques and myself and the other for Athos.” She did a double take at the comte when Milady clearly heard him whisper in her ear... _quel dommage_.

“Fine then,” Dawnay didn’t seem too pleased at the arrangements but things could later change in his favor. “We’ll situate your guard in the next room. Don’t forget we’ll be dining at six tonight.”

“We’re looking forward to it,” Milady followed the servant up the stairs with d’Artagnan and Athos bringing up the rear.

“I think whenever I’m in the comte’s company I better get used to feeling detrop,” d’Aragnan complained to Athos held back his mirth once more at how forlorn the child sounded.

“Do not fall under Anne’s spell, pup,” Athos teased.

“It’s not that,” d’Artagnan said in a hushed whisper. “Dawnay rubs me up the wrong way.”

“Well he’s rubbing King Louis up the wrong way as well,” Athos threw back, “so you are in good company,” he put a guiding hand on the lad’s back as they made their way up the winding staircase. “When the time is right we will find the evidence against him and then the comte will be ours,” Athos lowered his voice further. “Remember to be on your guard... _les murs ont des oreilles.”_

++++

Coming down later for dinner, they had all changed from their traveling clothes. In Milady’s case her decollete attracted admiring gazes from nearly every male in attendance, along with coveted glances from many a woman as well.  
“The dessert table looks mouthwatering,” Miladypointed out. As well it did filled with delicacies such as eclairs, several varieties of mousse, brioches, creme brulee, crepes and croissants filled with rich creme.

“We might gain some extra pounds while we’re here,” d’Artagnan grinned as he reached out for an eclair an popped one in his mouth, licking the icing from it with his tongue. Spotting another table off to his right, d’Artagnan headed for that since it held escargot, baguettes, and a bounty of hors d’oeuvres.

When d’Artagnan re-joined the others he handed each of them an aperitif. Seeing Athos looking at him in surprise, he smiled. “I think it would be all right for the contesse’s guard to indulge tonight.”

Taking a sip of the wine, Athos pulled a face.

“Being a connoisseur yourself,” d’Artagnan teased, “is it not to your taste?”

“It’s demi-sec,” Athos put down his glass. “Tis better I keep a clear head anyway.”

“They do have a buvette set up in the other room,” Milady offered. “In case you’d like something else that would agree with your palate.”

“Marbleu!” Athos glowered at her until Milady walked off in a huff.

“It’s going to be a loooong night,” d’Artagnan stalked off after her.

“Merde!” Athos swore and he too followed them.

++++

The main buffet table was adorned with a variety of bouquet arrangements down along the center of the table. It added a nice color to the soiree.

Seating arrangements had to have been switched at the last minute, d’Artagnan thought as Comte Dawnay had seated himself beside Milady with d’Artagnan to her left and Athos beside him.

“This demi-glace on the chicken is superb,” Milady cooed. “I must have the recipe.”

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan thought he heard Athos say as Milady’s remark made his own lips twitch.

“I will admit my chefs are the very best to be had,” Emile smiled into her entrancing eyes. He leaned over to ask her a question. “Tell me how serious is your liaison with this child?”

“How ungallant of you to ask,” Milady scolded him with a tinkling of laughter in her voice. “You could say it is just a mild flirtation on my part.”

Listening to their exchange, d’Artagnan started to wonder why he was even on this assignment. Seemed to him that Milady was taking care of business in her own way, having a private tete-a-tete with Dawnay.

“She plays the coquette quite well,” Athos whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear, “do you not think so?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan reached out to take a sip of his wine. “She’s a femme fatale,” he murmured quietly for Athos’ ears alone.

“She’s had years to perfect her trade and don’t you forget it, chiot.”

“I can’t wait for everyone to retire so that we can start looking for our evidence,” d’Artagnan exchanged a long look with Athos and could tell the older man felt the same.

A woman across from d’Artagnan engaged him in conversation and when Marguerite asked if he were the contesse’s son, he chuckled. The deadly look Milady threw the woman nearly had him howl in laughter and Athos’ amused face spoke volumes. Quickly explaining away their relationship before Milady threw her chicken leg at the poor woman, d’Artagnan noticed the cold look Marguerite sent Milady.

“Maman indeed,” Milady hissed at the boy.

“Qui ecoute aux portes, entend souvent se propre howte,”d’Artagnan told her, still containing his mirth at the gaffe made by Marguerite.

“Pfft!” Milady sniffed and turned her head away.

There were a great number of other people in attendance so d’Artagnan made their acquaintance while he left Milady to chat up Dawnay.

++++

After an evening of music and dance, they all headed back to their respective rooms. Well d’Artagnan being the gentleman that he was actually sneaked into Athos’ room to change, much to the other man’s amusement.

They were going to wait until the household was asleep and use tonight to enter Dawney’s den where hopefully key documents were that would prove the treasonous accusations against the comte were true.

It was over an hour later when d’Artagnan entered Milady’s room. The neat chignon she had earlier worn downstairs was gone and her hair now hung in waves past her shoulders. He couldn’t help but notice her peignoir and was confused at her attire. “Why are you dressed in this way? Everyone should be asleep by now and Athos is waiting for us so we can sneak into Dawnay’s den.” Folding his arms d’Artagnan waited for Milady’s excuses to unfold.

Frowning, Milady tsked as she walked back to her armoire and took out something more appropriate.

Turning his back, d’Artagnan waited while she changed. “Did you forget?”

“I was thinking of paying Emile a late night visit,” she replied smoothly.

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan threw out his arms. “You never stop!” He felt sorry for Athos all the more and understood better why he divorced this woman. “The mission comes first!” he hissed.

“Perhaps I could pick up a trinket or two while we’re on the hunt,” Milady smiled coyly and blinked in surprise at d’Artagnan’s dark scowl. “What can I say? Les habitudes ont la vie dure.”

Grumbling, d’Artagnan opened the door and stalked past Athos’ curious eyes. He had heard only a part of the boy’s conversation with Anne and now shook his head. “On n’est jamais si bien servi que par soi-meme.” Stabbing her with a sharp look, Athos wondered what else she had done to set the pup off like that. It was better he did not know. Quickly following d’Artagnan down the steps, Athos spoke in low tones to the boy. “Mieux vaut etre seul que mal accompagne.”

“You can certainly say that again,” d’Artagnan snarled quietly as he held a finger to his lips for everyone to be quiet as he led the way to the comte’s den. Slipping inside, he immediately went over to the desk which of course was locked. D’Artagnan would have been surprised if it hadn’t been. Removing several tools he had hidden within a special belt he wore, he than began to pick at the lock.

“Man of many parts, eh?” Athos’ eyes crinkled up in the corners as he watched the pup at work.

“Part spy remember?” d’Artagnan’s eyes twinkled back. He tried to keep one eye on Milady while he was at it in case her fingers began to itch to steal something valuable from the room. Looking at Athos he nodded his head to him and then jerked it toward Milady. Seeing his friend get the point, d’Artagnan watched Athos shadow her movements.

Turning in a circle as she looked about her, Milady bumped directly into Athos. “I promise not to take anything,” she pouted.

“Il faut bonne memoire après qu’on a menti,” Athos folded his arms and stood rigidly in front of her.

“And you have too long a memory, mon ami,” Milady brushed past him but was halted by his hand on her arm.

“Longer than you realize, Anne,” Athos said quietly, earning him a lift of her pretty brows.

“Excusez-moi for breathing,” Milady snapped.

“Children,” d’Artagnan warned.

“Put in our places by another child,” she snickered and shook off Athos’ hand on her arm.

“I’ve got the drawer open,” d’Artagnan announced. Opening it up he took out a bunch of papers he gave Athos to look through, while he took out a ledger to read. He observed Milady helping Athos rummage through the pile he had given his friend and was happy she was keeping herself occupied and not making trouble. As d’Artagnan’s finger skimmed past the comte’s scrawl he finally hit paydirt and tucked the ledger into a bag he carried. “What I’ve found in here is enough to arrest Dawnay for treason against the crown,” d’Artagnan grinned happily. “Athos, should we wait until the morn or pay Dawnay a visit now?”

“Dawnay’s not going anywhere,” Athos shrugged. “Let the man have his beauty sleep.” Hearing d’Artagnan’s small huff of laughter brought an answering smile to his own lips. “Let us get our own rest and rise early before the other guests do,” he smiled. “Then we can arrest him.”

“If he puts up a fight?” Milady looked at the two men but it was the look in the youngster’s eyes that made her take an involuntary step backwards.

“Leave him to me,” d’Artagnan said, leading the way back out of the room.

When they reached Milady’s bedroom she turned to face the boy, running a lazy finger down d’Artagnan’s cheek. “Voulez-vous coucher avec mo ice soir?” Her breath ghosted over the younger man’s face. “Or if you prefer,” she glanced at the stern look Athos was giving her, “a ménage a trios.”

Cheeks turning red as fire, d’Artagnan said something harsh under his breath, turned and went into Athos’ room.

“Your risqué comment was not in good taste, Anne,” Athos chided. She would never change her ways and Athos discovered that he could care less. But not where d’Artagnan was concerned. He would make sure the boy would never be tainted by her wicked ways.

“Ah but, Cherie d’amour,” Milady chuckled, “it would have been so much fun.”

“You’d have better luck trying it on that faquin Dawnay,” he retorted softly, then he too went to turn in for the night.

++++

 _Notes:_ Wow! I used an awful lot of French words in here. So once again I will give all of you a translation for them.

En route - on the way  
Allons-y - let’s go  
Chateau - manor house of nobility  
Soiree - evening party  
Connoisseur - expert in matters of culture  
Diantre - good heavens  
Decor - layout and furnishings of a room  
Parbleu - for God’s sake  
S’il vous plait - please  
Mon garcon - my boy  
Chiot - puppy  
Popinjay - puffed up personage  
Quel dommage - what a shame  
Eclairs - cream and chocolet iced pastry  
Buvette - bar  
Mousse - whipped dessert  
Hors d’oeuvres - snacks  
Aperitif - before meal drink  
Baguette - narrow loaf of bread with crisp crust  
Brioche - sweet yeast bun  
Creme brulee - dessert consisting of custard and caramel  
Croissant - crescent-shaped bread made of flaky pastry  
Crepe - thin, savory pancake  
Demi-glace - reduced wine-based sauce for meats and poultry  
Demi-sec - semi-dry, usually in regards to wine  
Liaison - close relationship/connection of affair  
Detrop - unnecessary/unwanted  
Coquette - flirtatious woman  
Mon dieu - my God  
Chignon - hairstyle worn in a roll at the nape of the neck  
Bouquet - bunch of flowers  
Blase - unimpressed with something or someone  
Armoire - cabinet for wardrobe  
Peignoir - woman’s dressing gown  
Voulez-vous coucher a vec moi ce soir - do you want to sleep with me tonight  
Risque - sexually suggestive  
Marbleu - gad  
Faquin - rascal  
Cherie - darling/dear  
Cherie d’amour - sweetheart  
Decollete - woman’s garment with low cut neckline exposing cleavage  
Excusez-moi - excuse me  
Femme fatale - deadly woman  
Gaffe - blunder  
Menage a trois - sexual arrangement for 3 people  
Moue - pout  
Role - function of a person in a situation (and I never even new this was a French word, LOL!)  
Tete-a-tete - intimate conversation between 2 people

French proverbs/Sayings:  
On n’est jamais si bien servi que par soi-meme - if you want something done right, do it yourself  
Qui ecoute aux portes entend souvent se propre howte - eavesdroppers hear no good of  
themselves  
Les habitudes ont la vie dure - old habits die hard  
Les murs ont des oreilles - walls have ears  
Mieux vaut etre seul que mal accompagne - better to be alone than in bad company  
Il faut bonne memoire apres qu’on a menti - a liar should have a good memory


	18. Chapter 18

_Comte Dawnay’s chateau, next day_

They were up at the crack of dawn. Performing their ablutions, both d’Artagnan and Athos dressed themselves in their Musketeer uniforms. They helped each other adjust their pauldrons onto their shoulders. Milady was waiting and greeted them outside the room. She had discarded her fancy clothes for her more workable street ones.

Bowing her head toward the two, she smiled. “Shall we, gentlemen.”

“What do you say, d’Artagnan?” Athos’ eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“I think we shall,” d’Artagnan grinned, patting his satchel that hid the comte’s damning ledger.

++++

_Comte Dawnay’s bedroom_

Groggily answering his door, Dawnay poked his head out to see who dared disturb his rest. He had retired later than most of his guests and, admittedly, consumed more drink than he was capable of holding. Hence his hangover from hell. “What the deuce is it? And don’t you people know what time of day it is?”

Exchanging amused looks with one another, the threesome smiled pleasantly at the disgruntled man.

“We do know exactly what time it is.” Athos dearly would have loved to arrest Dawnay in his nightshirt and parade him down the staircase for all his guests and servants to gaze upon, but he was a man of principles and it just wasn’t in him to do that to the comte.

It was then Dawnay noticed the uniforms the men had donned. "You're Musketeers?" his muddled mind wasn't working properly, but he was certain they weren't dressed this way last night. "You weren't last evening I'm quite sure about that."

"Bright man," Milady laughed.

"Quite," Athos agreed.

“Sir,” d’Artagnan gained the half awakened man’s attention as Dawnay squinted through blurry eyes at him, “by order of the King of France we place you under arrest for treason against the crown!”

Instantly Dawnay lost what little color he had and appeared ghostlike and near ready to faint dead away into the bargain. “You do not know what you speak of!” he managed to come to what little senses he had, considering the alcohol swimming inside his head.

Holding up his satchel, d’Aragnan’s eyes sparkled. “Au contraire, Comte,” he tapped his bag, “all the evidence we need is inside here.”

Realizing they must have found the ledger, Dawnay knew he couldn’t bluff his way out of his predicament. As he squinted again, Dawnay noticed the contesse’s attire. “What are you wearing?” he asked in disgust.

“A girl has to have some working clothes you know,” Milady winked at him.

“I suppose your gown and jewels of last night were never yours to begin with,” he closed his eyes and put a hand to his aching head. “You three certainly played me for a fool.”

“It is you that are the _fool_ , Monsieur Comte” d’Artagnan spat scathingly, “for committing treason against our king! He considered you one of his close friends and yet you stabbed him in the back and sided with the Spanish!”

“Evidently during your many visits to the palace you kept your eyes and ears open for whatever could line your pockets,” Athos tone darkened as his hand tightened on the pommel of his sword.

“We could talk about my transgressions all day,” Dawnay sighed, “but I would like to get dressed first.”

“I will make sure you do not decide to crawl out of the window while you are at it,” Athos remarked and followed the comte inside his bedroom.

“I guess we are to twiddle our thumbs waiting,” Milady huffed.

“I believe there is a breakfast buffet already prepared,” d’Artagnan suggested. “Why do you not partake of it while we’re cooling our heels for Dawnay?”

“Non,” she bit her lip. “Something could go wrong and then where would I be?”

“Thinking of yourself and the money you’d miss out on if somehow the comte slipped through our fingers?” d’Artagnan snickered.

“Were you an enfant terrible for your parents?” Milady smirked as she noticed the boy’s face flush with embarrassment.

Praying Athos would hurry Dawnay along before d’Artagnan said something to Milady that he’d regret, the door slowly opened. Glancing at Athos’ set face he wondered if his friend had an unpleasant exchange with the comte. “Everything all right?”

“As rain, mon ami.” With an ungentle shove to Dawnay’s back, Athos walked close behind their prisoner.

“Whatever will my guests think when they see me dragged through my own home like a common criminal?” Dawnay’s eyes slid sideways toward the younger Musketeer.

“They can think whatever they prefer,” d’Artagnan replied. “It is what we _think_ that counts.”

As they started to walk down the long, winding staircase, Dawnay made a sudden lunge for the boy and pushed d’Artagnan down the stairs. Athos’ cry of outrage nearly deafened the comte as he suddenly found himself pushed up against the wall with a sharp poignard to his throat, courtesy of the woman he thought was a contesse.

Running down the flight of stairs, Athos came to a halt not quite at the bottom. His heart jumped into his throat at the bleeding form of the unconscious boy. Bending down he felt d’Artagnan’s limbs for breaks and finding nothing of that manner breathed a sigh of relief. That didn’t mean though that the lad wouldn’t be very sore after he woke up. Unfortunately when Athos gently lifted d’Artagnan’s head, his hand came away bloody. “Merde!” he swore, wishing that Aramis were here to treat their pup. Carefully he picked the youngster up in his arms.

“Athos, how is he?” Milady shouted down to him, digging her poignard deeper into the man’s skin not caring if she drew blood. Hissing into the comte’s ear Milady promised dire consequences. “Pray, Monsieur, that the boy does not suffer any great injury or I may decide to cut off your air supply in a very nasty way,” she brandished her poignard in Dawnay's face.

Walking back up the steps, Athos’ glanced at the comte with murder in his eyes. He’d like nothing more than to dispatch Dawnay to hell but the youngster was of utmost importance now. “I’m going back to my room,” shooting another deadly look at Dawnay, Athos shouted at him. “Get a message delivered to whomever your local physician is and get him here immediately!”

As Milady ushered the comte downstairs she was very tempted to shove him down the staircase as Dawnay did to d’Artagnan. But she held herself back and they reached the bottom to enter his den. “Now quickly write a message so one of your servants may deliver it.” Observing the man’s hand shaking badly, Milady rolled her eyes. “Will you hurry up!” she snapped impatiently. Finally Dawnay finished writing, though it was near illegible to her eyes and she could only hope the doctor would understand it.

Leading him outside of the room, Dawnay called out to one of his servants who was walking past carrying an armload of linen. “I need this taken to Doctor Cartier immediately. One of my guests has injured himself and needs medical attention.”

Observing Dawnay’s servant hand over the linen to another, Milady anxiously watched the man scurry out of the house to do his master’s bidding. “How far away does this doctor live?”

“About an hour away,” Dawnay replied as he broke out in a cold sweat. “His offices are in town there.”

“Let’s go back upstairs,” Milady jabbed him in the back with her poignard. “I want to check on d’Artagnan.”

++++

_Athos’ room_

“How is he?” were the first words that popped out of Milady’s mouth as soon as she closed the door behind her. Pushing the comte to sit down in the nearest chair Milady glared at him, her poignard never far from Dawnay’s neck.

“The boy hasn’t awakened yet,” Athos responded in frustration, running both hands through his hair. “Mon dieu! I never anticipated this happening.”

“Nor did I,” Milady agreed. “Dawnay said the doctor is only an hour away from here. Let us hope he’s not on call elsewhere for it will be another hour waiting at least.”

“I’d feel better if d’Artagnan would just open his eyes for me,” Athos wished again for their lively medic. Aramis had a way of putting one at ease in the worst of circumstances. “Even if it was only to shout curses at Dawnay.”

“Oui, the young man does have a way about him,” Milady smirked, which quickly turned into a frown as she heard d’Artagnan start to moan and thrash around on the bed.

“Steady, steady, d’Artagnan,” Athos soothed, running a hand through the child’s hair. “You have to be careful in case you have other injuries I cannot detect.”

“Why do you speak to him when he cannot hear you?” Dawnay asked in a puzzled voice.

“It helps me feel better,” Athos snarled at the man. “And you can just shut up or I will do you an injury you will not recover from!”

Clamping his lips together tightly, Dawnay scowled at the Musketeer, not used to being talked to in that manner.

“Better get used to it,” Milady whispered in the comte’s ear. “That’s how you’ll be getting treated in the Bastille until King Louis either hangs you or lops your head off.”

“Dawnay causes anymore problems for us he won’t reach Paris alive,” Athos threatened. “D’Artagnan said that His Majesty sanctioned us to do as we wish, did he not?”

“Oui, I was present when he told d’Artagnan that,” Milady nodded. “Still,” she gazed at the comte with nothing but contempt, “if the boy’s hurt badly I may take the decision out of your hands altogether, Athos.”

“Pfft!” Athos smiled grimly. “I’m near the point that I do not care any longer.”

“Now see here both of you,” Dawnay finally had enough of the two of them. “I have the right to defend myself to Louis.”

“Whatever _rights_ you had,” Athos spat, “you forfeited!”

Holding d’Artagnan’s satchel in her hands, Milady held it in front of Dawnay’s drawn face. “Your treacherous deeds are all written down by your hand in the ledger we carry. What type of defense could you have against that?”

“Perhaps he’ll plead insanity,” Athos muttered. “God only knows it was an insane act to begin with.”

“Louis will believe me,” Dawnay insisted, sweat pouring down his face in buckets now.

“I doubt it,” Athos drawled as he watched for any signs of the boy waking up. Finally he was rewarded when a pair of brown eyes slowly opened. Sitting down beside d’Artagnan, Athos tenderly cupped the lad’s cheek in his hand. “Hey, pup, you with me now?”

“Wha... what hap... happened?” Wincing in pain, d’Artagnan tried to reach for the back of his head. But Athos’ hand on his arm prevented him from doing so.

“Non,” Athos shook his head. “You took a mighty tumble down those stairs,” he shot an aggravated look at Dawnay, “courtesy of the comte.”

“Did I break anything? Cause I sure hurt all over,” d’Artagnan moaned as he tried to sit up. This time Athos placed a hand on the lad's chest pushing him back down onto the bed.

“I do not believe so but then again I am not a doctor,” Athos shrugged, “nor am I Aramis.”

“My head hurts,” d’Artagnan complained.

“It was bleeding awhile ago but I managed to stop it,” Athos gripped the boy’s chin in his hand. “How’s your vision?”

“Are there actually three of you?” d’Artagnan asked weakly.

Hanging his head down, Athos sighed. “Definitely a concussion,” he glanced at Milady who was standing guard over Dawnay. “If d’Artagnan comes out of this with only that I will be pleased.”

“The room seems to be moving around but that’s probably just me,” d’Artagnan grimaced as a shooting pain spiked through his skull. “I think I’ll pass out again.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Athos remarked dryly.

“Apologies in advance,” d’Artagnan retorted softly. “Louis and Jean-Armand are going to have a field day with how this mission turned out,"  speech slurring, d'Artagnan's eyes closed, as true to his word, he passed out.

“I swear by all that’s holy, Dawnay,” Athos growled, “d’Artagnan better not have anything more serious than a bad concussion or I will end your miserable life in this home you love so much!”

Looking at Milady with terror in his eyes, Dawnay swallowed down his panic. Perhaps he could appeal to her.

Knowing that look well, Milady sneered. “I’m with Athos,” she snorted. “Actually I’d prefer doing you in now,” she shrugged. “Our coach is cramped for space as it is.”

Defeated, Dawnay slumped forward in his chair realizing there was no way out of this for him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day - Comte Dawnay’s chateau, Athos’ room_

Doctor Herbert Joubert was very thorough in his examination of d’Artagnan while Athos practically breathed down his neck the entire time. The lad had woken up a half an hour prior to his visit so he was able to answer Joubert’s questions. “You are a very fortunate child that nothing is broken.” Gently tapping d’Artagnan’s head he smiled. “I am to understand you are a Gascon. So you can thank your heritage for that hard head of yours.” Seeing the boy roll his eyes at him, and hearing the other Musketeer’s snort of amusement from behind, made Joubert chuckle.

“We have at least a two and a half days journey back to Paris in front of us,” Athos voiced in quiet concern. “Should we delay because of the lad’s concussion?”

“Non,” Joubert said. “If the carriage ride makes him uncomfortable just make a few stops along the way.” Snapping his medical bag shut, Joubert nodded to them. “Unless anyone else needs my aid I have other patients to see.”

After the doctor left, Athos sat on the boy’s bed. “It’s not yet noon, d’Artagnan, do you feel up to leaving?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan sat up and wished he hadn’t as the room began to spin again. Grabbing onto Athos for support he rested his head on the other man’s shoulder feeling his friend’s fingers carding through his hair. “If we leave now then we can be in Paris all the sooner.”

“Will you make it down the steps?” Milady asked pensively, shooting daggers with her eyes at Dawnay cowering in the chair opposite the bed.

Before d’Artagnan could answer, Athos responded. “I’ll carry the pup down myself.”

“No you will not!” d’Artagnan shot him a lethal look.

“And if you take another tumble down the stairs again,” Athos eyes dared the boy to argue with him, “what’s that Gascon stubborness going to prove, eh?” Leaning down Athos whispered in the child’s ear. “That you’re a willful chiot that's what."

Flushing with embarrassment, d'Artagan's chin quivered. His body ached in places he didn't expect along with the mother of all headaches, the rush of tears to his eyes made him feel all of eight years of age again.

"Merde!" Athos exclaimed softly and cradled d'Artagnan's head to his chest.

"D'Artagnan, for all our sakes just this once listen to the man?" Milady wasn't known for her patience and it was rapidly flying out the window. The lad's actions were not helping anyone except Dawnay who probably was glad of the delay he had caused.

"All right," d'Artagnan sniffed and took the proffered handkerchief that Athos kindly provided. "Let's do this then."

Very carefully Athos bent and picked the boy up. "Do you ever eat, mon garcon? You are as light as a feather."

Snorting, d'Artagnan very nearly stuck out  his tongue at him. "You, Porthos and Aramis spar with me daily, sharpening my skills. All the calories burn up that way."

"I'll make sure to have Serge give you extra portions from now on," Athos offered.

"Then there won't be anything left for Porthos to eat," d'Artagnan pointed out smugly.

"I'll see to it then that the palace chef makes you eat every morsel set in front of you," Athos countered, smiling the whole while.

"This is all rather touching," Milady snapped, "but can we get on with this?"

"Must we?" Comte Dawnay was still hoping to wiggle his way out of this.

Pulling her poignard back out, Milady brandished it in the comte's face once more. "We must," she grinned, motioning the man to stand up. She made Dawnay walk in front of her with Athos following in the rear holding d'Artagnan close.

++++

_Outside Comte Dawnay's chateau_

Seated in the coach Dawnay was positioned beside Milady, uncomfortably aware of the woman's penchant for poking him in the ribs with her poignard. He shifted slightly to get away from the blade but to his disappointment Milady shifted with him.

Athos had d'Artagnan beside him and was concerned about the lad. Once he had reached the bottom of the staircase and set the boy back on his feet, d'Artagnan listed sideways and if Athos didn't have fast reflexes the youngster would have fallen to the ground. Athos was not filled with confidence that the doctor had been correct about d'Artagnan being able to handle the journey as he watched the pup walk to their awaiting carriage on two very unstable legs. Seeing d'Artagnan's pasty looking face filled Athos with unease. "If needs be, stretch yourself out and lay your head in my lap and try to rest."

"Not yet," d'Artagnan responded weakly. "Louis owes me for this one," he grumbled.

"I hope you milk him for something grand," Milady laughed.

"There probably won't be anything left by the time he pays you," d'Artagnan retorted.

"Brat," she teased, observing the boy roll his eyes at her. Watching d'Artagnan closely, Milady realized that he really was too young for her. For all his deadly pursuits for the king, d'Artagnan really was an innocent. If she was anything it wasn't a taker of innocence, even though hers had been lost to her ages ago. Milady had dug her own particular grave the minute she and Thomas decided on an affair together. Which she honestly blamed Athos for because he was hardly ever home. Always he was on his estate making sure it ran properly or out helping his retainers if need be. What was a neglected wife to do? Evidently Milady had chosen the wrong option. Bien, no use hashing over bitter memories. Best to think upon the money King Louis was to give her upon finishing this assignment.

++++

_Several hours into the journey to Paris_

Tugging on Athos' doublet, d'Artagnan only had to glance at his friend and he heard Athos shouting to the driver to stop the coach. Quickly Athos bundled him out the door so d'Artagnan could throw up.

Not having much in his stomach, d'Artagnan mostly dry heaved. Panting and sweating he leaned weakly against the carriage. Feeling Athos' cool hand on his forehead d'Artagnan heard his brother curse.

"Merde! You're running a fever, damn it!" Athos looked at Anne helplessly. In turn, he noticed her gaze directed at their prisoner in a manner that left Dawnay in little doubt of her intentions.

"Let's at least try to get Dawnay to the king _alive_ ," Athos remarked acidly, "so he can be called to account for his crimes."

"Oh he'll get there alive," she smirked. "I can't guarantee his condition upon arrival to the palace though." Milady then heard Dawnay quietly reciting prayers to himself. "A little late in the day for asking God's help."

"Courte priere penetre les cieux," Dawnay murmured.

"Unlikely in your case, mon cherie comte," Milady chided. "I think those pearly gates of heaven will remain firmly locked after your execution."

Athos shot a scathing look at Dawnay through the carriage window. "Il n'y a point d'eglise ou le diable n'ait sa chapelle."

"Oui," Milady agreed. "I do not think le diable will have a very long wait for you, Dawnay."

Shaken by their words, Dawnay's stomach revolted. "I think I need to follow the boy's example."

"Mon dieu!" Milady shouted in disgust as she practically shoved him out of the carriage, not wanting the comte to soil her traveling clothes. She quickly followed Dawnay out for fear he would try and escape.

Keeping a close eye on d'Artagnan, Athos assumed Anne was doing the same with the comte. However after Dawnay had indeed emptied the contents of his stomach both of them were taken by surprise when the man grabbed d'Artagnan and took the boy's main gauche from him, holding it menacingly close to the lad's throat.

"I'm a desperate man now!" Dawnay snarled, digging the blade deeper into the sick child's neck.

When the first drops of blood appeared on the pup, Athos' blue eyes flashed with anger. "You have just sealed your fate!" he growled and stepped forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dawnay warned. "Not if you want d'Artagnan to remain alive that is."

Ill as he was feeling, d'Artagnan was angered over being used in this manner. But he didn't feel strong enough to break the comte's grip on him. Observing Athos' fury, d'Artagnan realized Dawnay was a dead man walking his last steps toward hell. Figuring he had one avenue open to him, d'Artagnan played it. "I'm going to be sick again," he moaned and the moment Dawnay stared at him in horror, loosening his grip on him, was all the advantage d'Artagnan needed to slip out of his hold.

Getting a nod of approval from Athos, d'Artagnan threw his sword at his brother and watched Athos deftly catch it in his right hand. In turn, Athos threw it on the ground at Dawnay's feet. "Pick... it... up!" he ordered the sniveling coward.

Realizing this was his death sentence, Dawnay didn't have any choices left but to pick up the sword. Retrieving it he faced the angry Musketeer.

"En garde!" Comte Dawnay may have been a competent swordsman in his own day, but Athos was no ordinary man but a trained soldier having the comte on his knees begging for mercy after they barely began their dance. "Twice now you've tried to bring harm to d'Artagnan," Athos' harsh voice was unforgiving, "there will not be a third." Swiftly he carried out justice with a quick thrust to Dawnay's breast.

Pouting, Milady glanced at the body kicking out at it with a dainty foot. "I wonder what the payment is for a dead comte?"

++++

 _Notes:_  
_French Proverbs/Sayings:_  
_"Courte priere penetre les cieux"_ \- English equivalent: Short prayers reach heaven.  
_"Il n'y a point d'eglise ou le diable n'ait sa chapelle"_ \- English equivalent: Where God has a church the devil will have his chapel.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Small village in Amiens_

They were delayed in their travels over several hours when they made a stop in Amiens, which was the closest village from Dawnay's estate. They needed to find something to wrap the deceased in as quickly as possible. Although Athos was of two minds to either dump the comte’s corpse over a cliff and be done with it or deliver it back to the king, for d’Artagnan wasn’t getting any better on their journey. Knowing the carriage ride wasn’t doing the boy any favors, Athos fought down his feelings of frustration.

As if he could read the older Musketeer’s mind, d’Artagnan cracked one eye open. “Louis will want to see the body.”

“Oui,” Athos acknowledged. “I surmised as much.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if Athos wanted to get rid of it,” Milady carelessly commented, wrinkling up her pretty nose. “Alas, Dawnay’s stench is already drifting inside our coach.”

“Which explains my reason for delaying our return,” Athos snapped. “Perhaps there may be an apothecary in town where I could possibly purchase something to use on the body to prevent the smell from becoming too overwhelming.”

“Should have just left his rotting carcass for the buzzards to peck at,” Milady snorted in a very unladylike manner.

Ignoring Anne's words Athos focused his growing concern on the boy, d’Artagnan was much too quiet for his liking. “We might see if there’s another doctor available to look at you while there.”

“I just want to get home and crawl into my own bed,” d’Artagnan moaned, clutching at his stomach which still plagued him.

Fighting off a smile, Athos glanced at his ex-wife. “What will you do with your payment from this venture?”

“You know,” Anne shrugged, “the usual things a woman likes.”

“Ah!” A wealth of meaning was held in Athos' tone.

“Which means the establishments in Paris better watch out,” d’Artagnan tried to rally, sounding as normal as possible while he teased her. “Milady will be going on a shopping spree with a vengeance.”

Smiling, her green eyes sparked. “The child knows me so well already.”

“It’s not such a huge leap to figure out,” Athos responded dryly. “Dieu! I could use a stiff drink!”

“And I want my bed,” d’Artagnan repeated tiredly.

“I just want my money,” Anne’s lips twitched as Athos rolled his eyes. “What? You want me to lie?” she snickered. “In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life.”

Not really wanting to know, Athos waved his hand for her to continue anyway.

“It goes on,” she glared at him until Athos turned his head away.

++++

Athos ended up procuring a heavy tarp-like material to cover the corpse. And, as luck would have it, he did manage to locate an apothecary and purchased several bottles of perfumed oil that Athos could use on Dawnay’s remains to minimize the decaying odor. He had enough to repeat the process if needs must, but they were only a day’s ride away from Paris now, and Athos prayed their luck would hold out.

As for d’Artagnan, Anne found a local doctor to check the lad over. It was as Athos feared, the ride was making the young one much worse. For it seemed the child's concussion was even greater than Doctor Joubert had first diagnosed. The fever d’Artagnan had been fighting off since they left Dawnay’s home held a fierce grip on the Gascon since the youngster couldn’t get proper rest. Even though Joubert did suggest making short stops along the way to Paris if d’Artagnan was made uncomfortable, this fever, nausea and vomiting were more than Athos had counted on dealing with. So they remained in the village an extra two hours until the whelp told them he felt slightly better.

++++

_En route to Paris again, four hours later_

“Another day and we’ll be home,” Milady's voice held grave concern for d'Artagnan. When they had initially departed from Amiens the young man had fared much better. Since they had been back on the road, the boy's condition appeared to have deteriorated rapidly. “Athos, perhaps we should have lingered longer in town.”

His gaze resting on d’Artagnan’s sleeping form, Athos’ lips firmed. “He knows we cannot delay too much longer.”

“Should have disposed of the damned comte’s body in the nearest dung heap,” she muttered and noted a sleight smile begin to form on Athos’ frosty looking face.

“Bien,” Athos snorted, “Dawnay would be good for something that way at least.”

“Fertilizer,” Anne chuckled low so as not to disturb the youngster. Then her amusement disappeared as she heard d’Artagnan groan in his sleep. With a tilt of her head toward the boy she said, “Athos, I think you should consider stopping our coach. D’Artagnan’s face is flushed with fever once more.”

“Think not that I hadn't already noticed, Madame!” Athos was irritated with her. Of course he could tell the lad was worsening. “We’ll stop for another little while,” he grimaced. “Time to get some fluid’s into him anyway and hopefully a bit of food as well if d’Aragnan’s stomach will cooperate."

Knowing she clearly said something she shouldn’t have, Anne kept the rest of her thoughts to herself.

++++

Feeling the coaches’ motion cease, d’Artagnan thought they had arrived back at the palace. His bed called out to him and he couldn’t wait to fling himself into its comfortable embrace. But when he finally opened his eyes to stare out the window, d’Artagnan frowned. “We’re not home are we?” he was crushed by the realization.

Seeing where the lad’s mind had wandered off too, Athos caught d’Artagnan’s eye. “Another rest stop for you, chiot,” he grinned, trying to put the whelp in a better frame of mind.

Eyeing the roof of their coach, d’Artagnan winced knowing Dawnay’s rotting body was secured to the top of it. Still it did nothing to improve the way he was feeling at present. “Louis is going to pay through the nose for this one.”

“So you mentioned earlier,” Milady reminded him.

“Ah!” d’Artagnan held up one finger. “Non. I said that Louis would _owe_ me,” he grimaced and put a hand to his head as it pained him again. "The more I think upon it I’m going to ask for certain things I’ve been badly needing which will cost him plenty.”

Helping the younger man out of the coach, Athos couldn’t hide his amusement. “Concussions have an odd effect on you it would seem.”

“The _effect_ will be on Louis’ pockets,” d’Artagnan took the proffered water skin Athos kindly offered him and drank greedily.

“Small sips, d’Artagnan, or you will bring everything back up again,” Athos patiently waited as the pup heeded his words. Holding out a few slices of cheese and bread, Athos was pleased the boy nibbled on it at least. Holding it in his stomach would be another thing entirely.

“Merci,” d’Artagnan’s brows drew together. “Why are you two not eating?”

“We’re not hungry yet,” Milady offered with a smile of sympathy toward the youngster.

“Listen,” d’Artagnan huffed, “no more stops on my account, eh?” He knew when he was being coddled and didn’t like it one bit.

Exchanging ironic glances, both Athos and Anne simply nodded their heads as if humoring a belligerent petite garcon.

“I’m much better now,” d’Artagnan could tell they didn't believe a single word that came out of his mouth and actually neither did he.

“If you can hold the contents of your stomach for the next few miles I may believe that is true,” Athos remarked sternly. He then watched the few attempts d’Artagnan made as he struggled to get back inside their coach under his own power. Sighing, Athos bent his head, stared at the ground and counted to ten. His instincts were correct in that the child lied about feeling better as Athos literally had to lift the whelp up into their coach to help d’Artagnan gain his seat. After another exasperated exchange of looks between himself and Anne, Athos then told the driver to continue on.

++++

_Next day – Paris, Royal Palace_

“Louis,” Jean-Armand had to traipse nearly the entire length of the palace to locate the man, “couldn’t you have left word with the guards where you’d be found?”

Seeing Jean-Armand’s irritated expression, Louis appeared puzzled. “I always go out to the gardens with Anne this time of day,” he replied as if Jean-Armand should have known that fact.

“I must be slipping,” Jean-Armand mumbled low, rubbing his forehead as he heard Louis’ and Anne’s chuckles. “When you are as old as I you will begin to forget things as well,” he retorted wryly. “Anyway," he waved his hand, "I came to inform you of d’Artagnan’s arrival.”

“I received no missive telling me they accomplished their task,” Louis stabbed Jean-Armand with his usual - _this is not according to protocol expression_.

Sighing, Jean-Armand simply said, “Things more than likely didn’t go according to plan.”

“Apparently so,” Louis snorted. “Anne, would you like to greet d’Artagnan and the others with me?”

“I would,” she smiled as Anne placed her arm on her husband’s and with Jean-Armand by her side went happily along.

++++

_Outside the Royal Palace_

Athos helped Anne out first and stuck his head back into the coach noticing the wan face of d’Artagnan’s staring back at him. Athos didn’t have the heart to tell the lad to get out. Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned around to see Their Majestys and Captain Treville waiting.

“I do not see Dawnay,” King Louis stated flatly, his eyes turned flinty. He was a tad put out that he couldn't royally chastise the comte face to face.

Clearing his throat, Athos motioned with his head and pointed with a finger toward the rooftop of their coach. “Sorry, sire, but circumstances required me to end Comte Dawnay's life."

“There is a story there I presume?” King Louis folded his arms, observing Athos shift from one foot to the other. Not usual behavior for the man at all.

“Oui, and it involves d’Artagnan specifically.” Athos peeked inside the coach again and tried to send the lad a reassuring smile as d’Artagnan gave him a weak wave in return.

Craning his neck to peer inside as well, King Louis frowned. “Athos, where is my ward? Why has he yet to come out to join us?” he asked impatiently.

“Under the weather, Your Majesty,” Milady offered quickly, her gaze bounced between Treville’s concerned face and the king’s.

Finally Louis’ patience was rewarded as d’Artagnan gingerly got out of the coach, clutching the door like a lifeline. Stabbing his guardian and Jean-Armand with an angry look, he voiced his feelings for all to hear. “There is not enough money in the royal treasury to cover what I’ve endured these past several days, Louis!” After those indignant words left his lips, d’Artagnan turned icily pale, clutched at his head, and promptly passed out as he fell into a concerned Athos' arms.

++++

_Note:_

_“In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life. It goes on.”_ Comes from Robert Frost.


	21. Chapter 21

_Still Outside the Royal Palace_

“Merde!” Athos clutched the boy tightly in his arms as he raced past King Louis and Captain Treville, heading for the palace.

“I shall follow Athos and see what aid, if any, I may be able to offer.” That said, Queen Anne picked up her skirts and ran to keep up with Athos’ pace.

Grabbing at Milady’s arm as she too rushed away to follow, Treville’s angry face stopped any harsh words from escaping her lips. “What the deuce did d’Artagnan mean by his remark, and why did he appear so ill as to pass out just now?”

“Questions, questions,” Milady muttered irritably and registered His Majesty’s panic as the king’s eyes followed his unconscious ward being held securely by Athos. She tried to reassure him as best she could as Milady explained the whole sorry story to both men. When she finished Milady couldn't help but tell that King Louis and Treville were seething over Dawnay's part in all of this.

“Get the damn body down from there!” Treville shouted out orders to two Red Guards that had accompanied the king. When the body was dropped at their feet, he bent down to roll it out. “Well, sire?” Treville observed His Majesty wrinkle up his nose and cover it with his hand.

Looking at Dawnay’s decaying corpse, King Louis gave an abrupt nod of his head. “I’m satisfied.” For good measure he gave it a swift kick. “ _Long may he and le diable dance_.”

“And one less spy to worry about,” Treville agreed solemnly. Fear now overwhelmed him for what d’Artagnan had endured at the comte’s hands, just as he knew it weighed heavily on Louis’ as well.

“I think we should worry about how fares poor d’Artagnan now,” Milady suggested and then curtseyed before the king, taking her leave to head over to the palace.

“Let us do the same,” Louis glanced at Jean-Armand’s face as indecision crossed over it. “Problem?”

“We still have the nasty business of disposing Dawnay’s remains ,” Jean-Armand told him distastefully. “We should tend to that before checking on d’Artagnan.”

“If it were not for the terrible stench, I’d love to wait and show his dead carcass off for all my enemies to gawk at. Then they’ll stand up and take notice of what happens when they cross swords with my Musketeers.” Louis cast a baleful eye upon the corpse as his Red Guards wrapped it back up awaiting their orders.

“He doesn’t deserve a proper burial considering Dawnay’s activities were treasonous,” Jean-Armand needlessly pointed out. “I suggest burning it to a crisp.”

“An excellent idea!” Louis clapped his hands. “See to it at once and then come back immediately to check on our boy.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Jean-Armand smiled and ordered the Red Guards to follow him.

++++

_Royal Palace – d’Artagnan’s room_

Hovering over the pup, Athos had to be forcefully nudged aside by the palace physician so the doctor could do his job.

As Doctor Facet examined the lad, he frowned and glanced at the Musketeer who nearly stood on top of him. “Concussion you say, mmmm,” he hummed softly. “Oui, a bad one at that,” he looked at him again. “From a fall down a staircase you say?”

“More like a _shove_ ,” Milady admitted with a wry glance towards Athos’ dour face.

Doctor Facet wasn’t going to follow up on her remark. The young man was a Musketeer and they were always getting into trouble one way or the other. So a concussion wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to deal with. Thank the heavens King Louis never suffered one for he would never hear the end of His Majesty's complaining. “Was the boy not allowed to rest before returning home?” At this juncture he didn’t care which one of them answered his query.

“We had another doctor look at d’Artagnan before we set off for Paris. He had informed us the lad's concussion wasn’t that bad, and he could travel as long as we stopped periodically if the boy was uncomfortable,” Athos explained at length.

“And did you?” Facet peered over his spectacles, glaring at Athos with irritation. “For this young man should never have been on the road at all.”

“Told you so,” Anne whispered triumphantly in Athos’ ear, daring the man to contradict her.

Queen Anne wondered what Milady’s words to Athos meant seeing a slight flush grace the Musketeer’s cheeks after the woman’s remark.

“Oui, we stopped a number of times and even remained in one of the local villages for a few hours while we gathered much needed supplies,” Athos’ concerned gaze rested on the still unconscious youth.

“Well I do not know where that doctor gained his degree from, but his diagnosis was completely inaccurate,” Facet straightened up and walked over to a table to fetch his medical bag. He placed a few items on a nightstand beside the youngster’s bed. “Make sure the lad takes these pills I’ve left with him when his headaches seem severe.”

“That’s all?” Milady asked, tapping her foot impatiently. “ _Pills_?” She exchanged a wry look with the queen over this. Feeling that both she and Her Majesty felt the same way about doctors forever handing out pills for every malady out there.

“The boy needs to rest and not exert himself for a considerable length of time until he is deemed fit enough to be left to his own devices,” Facet huffed, not needing to be taken to task by a mere woman. “Make sure to look out for dizzy spells he may have from time to time. Though if they remain constant there may be a problem within his brain.”

“Like a bleed?” Athos guessed and noticed Doctor Facet’s brows raise. Shrugging, he answered the doctor’s unspoken question. “One of my brothers also serves as a medic,” he smiled. “Certain things rub off after awhile and," he shrugged, "concussions are nothing new around here.”

“Hmmpft! I should think not,” Facet shook his head. “Tis a wonder you lot of Musketeers can even function most of the time,” he grumbled. “Always getting knocked about in fights and such.”

“You are sure this is all we can do for d’Artagnan?” Athos gaze shifted to his ex-wife who looked ready to explode. “For the lad is precious to Their Majestys and Captain Treville.”

“Not to mention Athos and his fellow brothers,” Queen Anne added.

“Oui, oui,” Facet grumbled testily, “It is just like I said,” then his brow furrowed in concentration. “Oh, do not worry if d'Artagnan suffers bouts of vomiting from time to time but that too should lesson once his head has had time to heal properly,” he added as an afterthought.

“Lovely,” Milady murmured dryly. “We might as well have had Aramis take care of d’Artagnan.”

Quirking a brow as he stared at her, Athos’s lips firmed. “I was not aware you knew that Aramis was the Musketeer I referred too.”

“Oh honestly,” she laughed. “I'd be out of business if I didn't pay attention to everything happening around me. Keeping my eyes and ears open is how I make my living, Athos.”

“How can anyone recover with all this yammering going on,” d’Artagnan cracked a bleary eye open and glared at everyone present. “All of you,” he waved a hand lazily in the air, “go away do.”

“Don’t be like that, d’Artagnan,” Anne chided as she sat down on the bed beside the boy. “You can’t know how Louis and I feel whenever you’re hurt.”

“Apologies,” d’Artagnan mumbled quietly to her as he closed his eyes once more, feeling Anne's hand running through his hair gently. She used to do the same thing to him when he was a petite garcon and had been stuck in bed with an illness.

“Chiot,” Athos admonished gently as he too sat down on the opposite side of the pup’s bed, “we are worried about you,” he fondly brushed a few strands of d’Artagnan’s hair away from the child’s face.

“Could you _worry_ outside my room so I can rest?” d’Artagnan countered as his eyes popped open again only to close them instantly as the room spun around him.

"You'll be plagued with dizzy spells for a short time, young man," Facet stood up looking down at the boy. "You're young and have a hard head from what I've understood the king to say in the past," he chuckled. "I'm sure you'll recover swiftly enough. The young often do." Closing his medical bag with a snap, Facet nodded his head at everyone and departed.

" _You're young and have a hard head_ ," d'Artagnan repeated in a nasally tone in much the same manner as Doctor Facet, amusing everyone in the room. "Where's Aramis?" he grumbled, plucking at his blankets. "Rather have him here."

"Dieu!" Athos ran his hand through his hair. "I should have sent word to them as soon as we returned," he gazed into the boy's surprised eyes, "but when you swooned into my arms the matter flew out of my head."

Scowling, d'Artagnan spat, "I did not _swoon_! Women do that!"

"It appeared to be a _swoon_ to me," Milady teased, seeing how deliciously the youngster rose to the bait. Her laughing face caught that of the queen's who nodded her head in approval.

"Oui, I believe it was also," Anne agreed, her eyes lit up with amusement as d'Artagnan glowered her way.

"I better go tell Aramis and Porthos now or they'll hang me out to dry later if they hear about this from anyone other than me," Athos huffed.

"Do not concern yourself, Athos," Treville entered the room following behind King Louis. "As I was taking care of other matters I sent someone to let your brothers know."

"Mon dieu!" d'Artagnan drew the blanket completely over his head. "Everyone's in here now! It's like a circus!" Even bundled within the folds of his hideaway, d'Artagnan's muffled voice registered with all in the room creating alot of amusement.

Daring to lift one corner of the blanket up to peek at the lad's face, Louis' smile left him instantly. "I am so very sorry for what happened to you and how sick you've been ever since."

"Better open up your coffers," d'Artagnan snorted from the safety of his cocoon.

"I beg your pardon?" Louis didn't understand the child's meaning but as he glanced at Athos and Milady it appeared they did.

"D'Artagnan's going to make you pay handsomely for this little escapade of ours," Milady explained.

"Ah!" Louis laughed down into his ward's woebegone features. "Just so." Putting the blanket back in place, he turned to face Milady.

"I will settle up my account with you shortly, Milady," King Louis smiled pleasantly at her.

Bowing her head, she was grateful he remembered her part in all of this. "Merci."

The banging of the door as it was thrown open wide startled everyone, especially poor d'Artagnan who swore violently from underneath his pile of blankets.

Staring at the intruders, they saw that it was none other than Porthos and Aramis who appeared quite out of breath.

"Mon fre'res," Athos greeted, "what did you do? Run all the way over here?"

" _OUI_ ," twin voices blurted out loudly, causing d'Artagnan to groan in pain.

"Appears we were the last ta find out about d'Art," Porthos rumbled low. "I grabbed Aramis here without a word of explanation and came a runnin'."

Throwing off his covers, d'Artagnan moaned. "I'm going to throw up."

"Not on that bed you aren't," Anne warned. Pointing toward a chamberpot in the corner, she was very relieved when Aramis quickly retrieved it and got it to d'Artagnan in time for the youngster to empty the contents of his stomach into it. Anne then tenderly wiped the lad's face after she was sure d'Artagnan was finished being sick.

Breathing hard, d'Artagnan laid back down. His eyes teared up again as he clutched at his stomach. "I hate being sick."

Placing a kiss on the boy's forehead, Anne whispered to him. "Think upon how you'll make Louis pay for this misadventure," she grinned impishly at seeing the pleased look of satisfaction this brought about on d'Artagnan's young face. A sideways glance at her husband told Anne that Louis was beginning to worry on what his ward would end up asking for.

"As long as the child doesn't bankrupt the crown all should be well," Louis remarked casually to Jean-Armand but his concern grew at his friend's minute shake of his head. "I say, should I be concerned after all?"

"When it involves d'Artagnan," Jean-Armand rolled his eyes, "be afraid, Louis... be very afraid."

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July to all that celebrate it!
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day - Royal Palace, Royal Gardens_

“How fares our lad?” Jean-Armand joined Louis and Anne beneath the large canopy created to keep the sun off of their persons.

“Moaning and groaning about being laid up in bed again,” an impish light lit up Anne’s lovely eyes. “I told d’Artagnan that he wasn’t safe as a spy nor as a Musketeer lately.”

“I doubt he took kindly to hearing that,” Jean-Armand chuckled, imagining the lad's ire at her words.

“I shall not repeat what the boy said in turn,” Anne graced both men with an amused smile.

“Has he tried to get up or have you chained d’Artagnan to his bed yet?” Jean-Armand laughed at the visual that presented to him.

“The youngster’s _tried,_ ” Louis took a sip of wine and picked at a few grapes, "didn’t get very far because Aramis pounced on d’Artagnan the instant he tried to step out of bed.”

“He wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway,” Anne added, “for he is still too dizzy and has a terrible headache still.”

“At least the vomiting has abated somewhat,” Louis wrinkled up his nose, munching on some crackers and cheese while at it.

“So that’s where my men all went,” Jean-Armand huffed, not really annoyed at the inseparables. But it would have been nice to have been informed every once in awhile to their whereabouts.

“Oui,” Anne grinned, “since early this morning.” She picked at a plate of fruit, picking up a ripe strawberry and biting into its sweetness. Glancing at Louis, her gaze then slid to Jean-Armand. Whispering low she said for his benefit, “I believe d’Artagnan was dictating to Athos the things he wanted in lieu of payment from this mission past.”

“Ah, Dieu!” Jean-Armand laughed, his whole body shaking. “I hope I'm here when Louis reads d’Artagnan’s demands.”

“If Louis knows what’s good for him,” Anne wiped her mouth with a napkin, “he’ll fill every single thing asked of him.”

Smirking, Jean-Armand knew d’Artagnan was going to see how much he could get away with. If it were within his means he would willingly give the pup anything his heart desired, for he loved the child that much.

“One of the maids went to check on d’Artagnan earlier and came back red in the face from laughing." Anne was amused herself as she remembered the maid’s mirth. “Lucie informed me that Athos had been grumbling that his hand was getting cramped from all the writing he was doing.” Anne glanced at Jean-Armand as she was sure they both remembered how as a child of merely eight, d’Artagnan was so very stubborn, sticking to his guns on whatever he thought was right. "Our youngster wasn't giving Athos any respite it would appear."

“Mon Dieu!” Jean-Armand now wondered what the lad was asking for. He may have very well been correct in his assessment that Louis should be _very afraid_.

++++

_D’Artagnan’s room_

“Did you get all that?” d’Artagnan was turned on his side facing the older Musketeer who sat beside his bed.

Raising a brow, Athos picked the list up with two fingers and shook it in front of the whelp’s tired face. “Care to check?”

Snatching it from Athos’ fingers, d’Artagnan scanned its contents and was quite pleased as a slow smile spread across his features. “Never let it be said that us Gascons don’t know what we want out of life,” d’Artagnan chortled, making the inseparables shake their heads at him. As if it just hit him, d'Artagnan stared at his friends oddly. “By the way, won’t Jean-Armand wonder where you three are?”

“Rene’s taken over my training for today,” Athos glanced over at his brothers for he did not know how they had gotten out of their own duties.

“My expertise was not required of me so far," Aramis grinned as he leaned casually against the wall, arms folded but his concerned eyes never wavered from the hurt boy lying in the bed.

“What about you, Porthos?” d’Artagnan slid ever deeper under the warmth of his bed sheets, his eyes getting too heavy to keep open for much longer.

“Hand to hand will be done later this afternoon, boyo,” Porthos smiled and tugged on what he could perceive was d’Artagnan’s foot underneath the pup’s blankets. “Wanted ta visit with ya awhile.”

“Merci,” d’Artagnan blinked and yawned. “Apologies, I’m suddenly quite sleepy again.” As soon as he closed both eyes, they immediately snapped open to scowl at Aramis’ innocent expression. “What did you put in my orange juice?” he pouted.

Pointing to himself, Aramis held out both hands. “Who, moi?”

Whispering low to Athos, Porthos could barely contain his laughter. “Mis drugged em’.”

“I surmised as much,” Athos replied dryly. “The garcon will not be pleased when he awakens.”

“Better than the whelp tryin’ ta get up and fallin’ down from a dizzy spell, hurtin’ himself further,” Porthos said gruffly.

“True enough, mon ami,” Athos agreed, watching d’Artagnan’s precious paper slip through the young man’s fingers. Catching it in his hand before it hit the floor, Athos went to place it on the lad’s nightstand but words from d’Artagnan’s lips halted his progress.

“See that cher Louis gets that, sil vous plait.” Once more drifting off to sleep, d’Artagnan was satisfied all was well.

Both Musketeers stood, one on either side of Athos, peering past their brother's shoulders to see the items on d’Artagnan’s list. Aramis and Porthos wished they could have had half of what the young lad was asking His Majesty for. As they followed Athos from the room they simply gazed at each other and shrugged, both of like minds wondering if the king would throw a royal hissy fit or not.

++++

_Royal Gardens... again_

“Bonjour, Athos,” King Louis greeted him warmly. Eyeing the paper in the Musketeer’s hand his curious gaze met the soldier’s slightly sardonic one. “Is _that_ it?”

“Oh oui,” Athos handed the list over to the king with pleasure, glad to have it out of his possession as if it were a hot potato.

As Louis read it... and continued reading it as he turned it over to the other side, he glanced over at Jean-Armand. “You _did_ warn me,” Louis admitted wryly.

“Is the monarchy about to incur bankruptcy yet?” Jean-Armand chuckled, enjoying the sounds of the inseparable's quiet laughter surrounding him.

“Not quite,” Louis handed the list over to Anne to read next.

Covering her mouth with one hand, she appeared sheepish. “I am afraid I may be partly responsible for all of this.”

“Do tell, Madame,” Louis’ eyes held hers as he listened to her explanation. Though he knew d’Artagnan didn’t need any prodding when it came to something like this.

“Since d’Artagnan’s going to be laid up awhile with his concussion, I thought to make him feel better by telling him to think of all the lovely things he could ask you for.” Anne didn’t dare look into her husband’s face, therefore she missed his apparent amusement at her disclosure.

“I believe Anne had something to do with that as well,” Athos offered, not wanting the queen to shoulder all the blame.

“Will someone kindly tell me what d’Artagnan wants?” Jean-Armand asked impatiently. He was pleased to still be here to witness Louis' reaction, but Jean-Armand needed to see what the pup asked for.

“Not much,” Anne winced as she gave the paper over to his care.

Reading it out loud, Jean-Armand had to hand it to the boy. When d’Artagnan wanted something he went all out to get it. “Let’s see,” he rubbed his chin, “d’Artagnan wants another horse of excellent stock to rival his own mount along with a Spanish saddle and tack to go with it,” he hummed softly. “Another pair of vambraces, a Yatagan sabre, bladed cloak and boots, a new crossbow, blow gun, new set of daggers and ninja throwing stars and a new cuirass,” he whistled through his teeth. Then a great bark of laughter erupted from him making all eyes turn his way as Jean-Armand waved the paper in the air like a flag. "I'm sorry, Louis," but he was anything but as he cast an amused face the monarch's way. "The lad's last line took me by surprise when d'Artagnan informs you that when he thinks upon more he will most definitely let you know.” Laughing for all he was worth, wiping tears from his face, Jean-Armand added, “and the chiot even had the audacity to tack on... _Le largent est fait pour rouler_.”

++++

_Note:_

French proverbs/sayings: _Le largent est fait pour rouler_ ; English equivalent: the money is there to be spent.


	23. Chapter 23

_A little over a month later - Musketeer courtyard, early morning_

Watching d'Artagnan spar with Athos, Porthos and Aramis leaned casually against each other as they observed the lad's movements closely.

"I think d'Art's gottin' over his concussion right enough," Porthos mused, grinning and giving the boy a thumbs up as d'Artagnan used a dirty maneuver against his mentor, one that he had taught the lad. He began to laugh and then covered it up by pretending to cough instead, no need giving Athos ammunition against him. Noting the stunned expression on the older man's face, as it was the first time Porthos could remember that Athos had ever had his rapier knocked out of his grasp, he winced as Athos turned to glare over his shoulder at him. Figuring in for a penny, in for a pound, Porthos cupped his hands to shout out, "Let's see ya do it agin', d'Art!"

"When d'Artagnan... and I... are done here," Athos huffed out between parrys, "Porthos, you're next."

"Oh, oh," Aramis frowned, glancing at Porthos whose ready smile instantly dropped. "You're in for it now, mon ami."

Shrugging, the easy grin back on his dark-skinned face, Porthos exchanged a wry look with Aramis. "It was worth it ta see that expression of astonishment on Athos when d'Art pulled the rug out from under em'."

"Adding to d'Artagnan's repertoire, Porthos," Athos snidely commented as he deliberately bumped his shoulder into the larger man's as he walked past him to the bench for a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

"The kid knows stuff... I know stuff," Porthos eyes twinkled merrily, "we've exchanged strategies is all."

Turning a wary eye on Porthos, Athos simply blinked a few times and sighed. "Am I in for more surprises then?"

"Don't know," Porthos winked at him. "Ya have ta ask our youngest about that."

Jumping up on top of the bench, full of youthful energy, d'Artagnan perched himself there grinning like an idiot. "You have to admit I got you on that one, Athos." Reaching over d'Artagnan snatched an apple off of the plate of fruit Serge had provided for them earlier. Taking a huge bite out of it, juice dribbled down his chin.

Throwing his towel at d'Artagnan, who now resembled nothing more than a child having a treat, Athos smirked. "I think you need this more than I."

Laughing, d'Artagnan snatched it from the air as it flew towards his face. "Merci." Feeling a friendly hand squeeze the nape of his neck gently, d'Artagnan turned his head slightly and caught Aramis' questioning eyes on him.

"How are you feeling, truly?" Knowing this was the youngsters first foray out and about since d'Artagnan had been laid up for weeks with the concussion from hell, Aramis was naturally concerned.

"Do not disturb yourself so on my account," d'Artagnan mumbled as he bit into his apple again.

"D'Artagnan?" Aramis snapped, not really meaning too, but the boy did try his patience at times.

"I'm fine now," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Honest."

"When was the last time we heard ya say that?" Porthos grunted as he remembered something that happened several weeks ago. Seeing the same look reflected in his brother's eyes, Porthos could tell they recollected as well.

Sheepishly, d'Artagnan shyly smiled at them. "How was I to know that my legs would give out on me simply walking from my bed to the chamber pot."

"I believe you told us you were _fine_ then too," Athos stabbed the boy with an _I told you so_ glance.

"Athos, we just sparred and I knocked you on your ass," d'Artagnan lifted a brow as he polished off his apple. "Perhaps not exactly on your ass, but I noticed you lost your blade," he pointed out innocently enough, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Not deigning to remark on the obvious outcome of their match, Athos reached out and mussed up d'Artagnan's hair. He grinned as the lad immediately batted his hand away.

"Louis has a job lined up for me," d'Artagnan boasted out of the blue and then had three concerned Musketeers turned his way.

"I do not think you should be sneaking around all over Paris and jumping from rooftops just yet," Athos dryly announced.

"Non," d'Artagnan brushed the hair out of his eyes. "It's a stay at home sort of _spying_ assignment."

Interest piqued, Aramis sat down beside the lad and patted d'Artagnan's knee. "Do let us in on it."

"Louis is expecting company to the Louvre shortly," d'Artagnan tossed the apple core aside. "Duke Vincent de Rambouillet will be visiting us from Marseille and will be our guest for the duration of his stay."

"Can't say I recognize the name and I'm familiar with many a noble," Athos clamped his lips tightly. D'Artagnan had just recovered from another injury and now he worried what this latest assignment would wrought.

"Thing is," d'Artagnan paused to glance upward through his bangs at Athos' stern demeanor, "Louis doesn't feel this duke is being truthful with him about lending his support to us and not to Spain."

Slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, Aramis made a face. "Another Dawnay!"

"If by that you mean is de Rambouillet another traitor," d'Artagnan carelessly shrugged, "that is what I am to discover."

"From inside your own palace?" Porthos scratched his head, not really seeing it.

"Porthos," d'Artagnan chided, " _secret passages_... ring any bells?"

"Will de Rambouillet be bringing any of his retainers along?" Athos asked, studying their youngest. Seeing the negative shake of d'Artagnan's head, he frowned. "Then what good does spying on a lone man accomplish?" Athos quizzed again. "Unless the man talks in his sleep."

"The duke will not be by himself," d'Artagnan stood up and found himself surrounded protectively by his friends. "His wife will be in attendance as well."

Understanding dawned for Athos then, realizing that d'Artagnan would be in a position to possibly catch snatches of conversation between husband and wife. He could see how anxious the pup was to sink his teeth into another project since his forced inactivity of the past month.

Whispering something in the boy's ear, Aramis laughed deeply as d'Artagnan blushed pink to the tips of his ears.

"Aramis?" Athos tilted his head to the side. "I know how your mind works, mon frere," he arched a brow high. "Do not encourage d'Artagnan into getting involved with a married woman."

Placing his hand over his heart, Aramis staggered back a few paces for dramatic effect. "You wound me terribly, Athos!"

"I don't see ya bleedin none'," Porthos chuckled, earning a quick grin from d'Artagnan.

"I do not ever want to see d'Artagnan dangling from a window, half naked, trying to escape from a cuckold husband," Athos glowered at the sharpshooter with narrowed eyes.

"All I asked the lad was if the duke's wife was pretty," Aramis pouted.

"Parbleu!" Porthos' bark of laughter made the others suddenly jump. "A one track mind ya have, Mis," he slapped his friend hard on the back. "Never change. I wouldn't know ya if ya did."

"Since I've never had the opportunity to have met either the duke or his wife, I've no clue as to whether the woman is beautiful as Milady or has warts all over her face." To which, having said that, his remark made Aramis pause in what he was about to add, Porthos' shoulders shake with laughter again and Athos' lips quirk upward.

"I do remember Anne telling me that the wife is quite a bit younger than her husband," d'Artagnan could see the men working that one out for themselves. "It, of course, was an arranged marriage and no real love was ever between them." Ducking his head, d'Artagnan shyly added, "Also her name is Angelique."

"For not having met this woman," Athos placed a hand on the youngster's shoulder, "you are very well informed."

"Both Louis and Anne apprised me of what to expect," d'Artagnan huffed. "Now I must go get cleaned up. Our guests are to arrive later this afternoon."

Watching their young one leave, Porthos voiced out loud what only the others thought as well. "I'm findin' myself wonderin' how _young_ this Angelique actually is."

Hanging his head down, Athos kicked out at the bench with the toe of his boot. "Gentlemen, I fear our skills will be needed once again."

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Aramis' brown eyes danced. "To protect d'Artagnan from the wiles of a young, not so happily married lady," Aramis chuckled as he extended his right arm out, hand palm down. _"All for one..."_

And as Porthos and Athos placed their hands on top of Aramis' they chimed together, _"And one for all!"_

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

_Same day, late afternoon - Royal Palace Gardens_

Cardinal Richelieu stood restlessly beside where King Louis comfortably sat on the dais, along with his queen, awaiting the arrival of their guests the Duke and Duchess de Rambouillet. His concerns laid directly with the duke. As for the man's wife, she was unimportant in his eyes. Dearly hoping that Queen Anne didn't faint away from the heat of the day, Richelieu observed her fanning herself most rapidly. It was a wonder her wrist didn't snap in the process he thought. The weather had turned appallingly warm. Even he was starting to feel uncomfortable in his heavy robes.

A brief glance over at King Louis had Richelieu grimacing. There's that boy again. He didn't know why he didn't care for the young Gascon but he did. It was inevitable that they would encounter one another, but Richelieu had to give the lad credit for doing his best to stay out of his way. But this was one of those times where he'd have to put up with the younger man being underfoot since King Louis insisted the boy be present. Not slow on the uptake, Richelieu surmised that His Majesty was going to use d'Artagnan's talents where de Rambouillet was concerned.

For his part d'Artagnan felt it was far safer for him to be nearer Louis and Anne than Richelieu. The cardinal, at the best of times, made him feel like he had been caught stealing the royal jewels. And at the worst of times... well d'Artagnan didn't even want to go there. He focused all his attention on the carriage that was now slowly making progress towards them. Once it stopped in front of the dais a small page scurried over to open the door letting their visitors out.

Taking note of the duke as he stepped out first, d'Artagnan was taken by surprise. The nobleman appeared to be in his late forties but with the physique of a much younger man. It would seem that de Rambouillet took great care of himself and hadn't, as some of his station were want to do, gone to pot.

It was after seeing the duke's wife exiting the carriage next that it made better sense to d'Artagnan as to why the noble kept himself fit. The duchess was a vision in loveliness, possessing pale skin, hazel eyes, along with a trim figure. Hazarding a guess, d'Artagnan would have placed her age as being somewhere in her early twenties. Fascinated by her hair, which he compared to sun kissed autumn leaves, d'Artagnan detested the way the duchess wore it in the latest fashion style that he noticed most women of means wearing. Wishing Madame had let her hair down so he could gauge its length and not piled up so high that a bird could nest in it, d'Artagnan sighed in disappointment. Oh well, there would be other occasions where he would catch a glimpse of it.

Then again, d'Artagnan shouldn't even bother thinking upon the woman's appearance whatsoever. Athos' words of warning to Aramis still rang freshly in his ears. No, he wouldn't find himself dangling from one of the Louvre's many windows. He was better than that or at least he hoped he was. Shaking his straying thoughts aside, d'Artagnan heard his name being mentioned and realized Louis was formally making introductions.

"My ward, d'Artagnan," Louis placed a hand behind the lad's back and urged him forward toward the couple.

Bowing respectfully, d'Artagnan plastered a fake smile on his face. "Bonjour," he gazed into the eyes of the handsome pair but this time his gaze stayed steady on Duke de Rambouillet and not his wife. "I hope you both enjoy your time at the Louvre."

"I am sure we will, d'Artagnan," the duke smiled pleasantly at the youngster. "But I will say my wife and I are a tad weary from our lengthy journey."

"Oui," the duchess nodded, daintily fanning herself. "Over two weeks of dusty and rough roads traveling to get here in that stuffy carriage," she complained. "It was almost enough to drive me insane."

"Gentlemen, it wasn't nearly as bad as my wife makes it out to be," de Rambouillet chuckled. "Aside from my darling's discomfort we did manage to stop at several decent inns along the way to Paris."

"Ah!" King Louis laughed. "At least it wasn't all hardship in coming to us then," he drew Anne close to his side. "Good to hear."

"I too wanted to extend my greetings," Richelieu stepped forward next.

"Cardinal," de Rambouillet acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. "Tis an honor to finally meet you as well as Their Majestys."

"Come," Queen Anne said to them. "Let us all retire to the palace and escape the heat of the day."

"The most sensible thing I've heard since we began this journey," the duchess commented as she slipped her arm into the crook of her husband's and followed behind the royal couple.

Hanging back, d'Artagnan found himself walking side-by-side with Richelieu. Not the most comfortable places to be in, and if he had had his way would have preferred being in the garrison courtyard exchanging more dirty tricks with Porthos.

"What do you make of them?" Richlieu murmured low for only the boy's ears.

Shock didn't begin to cover d'Artagnan's feelings when it registered that the cardinal was actually addressing him. Glancing sideways at Richelieu he couldn't help egging the man on. "You do know to whom you are talking too?"

"Oui, oui," Richelieu responded testily with a sharp wave of his hand.

Noting that His Eminence actually wanted d'Artagnan's opinion, he gave him one. "Outward appearances have always been deceiving as you and I both know." He kept up a steady pace beside the cardinal, but they were well enough behind the others to not be overheard. "The duke seems like a person easy to get along with but his wife I would think the opposite."

"I don't care about her," Richelieu snapped, trying to remember to control his voice.

"Of course," d'Artagnan murmured. He knew Richelieu thought most women to be stupid, silly creatures. "Still, they say _behind every successful man there's a woman_." Seeing the scowl forming on Richelieu's face brought a small measure of satisfaction to d'Aragnan's. "I would not be so quick to discount her yet."

"Do what you must then." Richelieu was annoyed that perhaps the words the boy spoke were true. He had first hand knowledge of what a woman could accomplish given the right incentive. That being the case Richelieu's thoughts turned to Milady. Wondering how she and the duchess would have gotten along. But that was neither here nor there for there was no reason that the two of them should ever meet.

"I always do, Cardinal," d'Artagnan snorted softly and then quickly caught up to his guardian, leaving Richelieu far behind.

++++

_Early evening - Porthos' apartments_

"Think the whelp's okay?" Porthos rested his booted feet on top of a large, round table located in the center of the room as he leaned back in his chair, tilting it on its back legs.

"By my estimation there hasn't been enough time for d'Artagnan to get into trouble yet," Aramis fondly mused. "After all it's only been a few hours."

"This is _d'Artagnan_ we are speaking of," Athos snorted into his wine glass.

"Positive thoughts, mon amis," Aramis flashed his white teeth as he smiled.

"Yeah... right," Porthos gulped his glass of wine down in one swallow. "I'm _positive_ d'Art could find trouble without even lookin' for it."

"Now remember it was because of the boy that our king wasn't blown to pieces during that dedication ceremony," Aramis reminded his concerned brothers.

"True," Athos agreed as he studied his now empty wine glass as if by magic it would refill itself up to overflowing.

"And he helped us fight off those bandits on an earlier mission, as I recall." Aramis grinned remembering how the lad surprised Athos the most with his skills that day. "And I won't remind a _certain_ someone of how the child saved that man's life," he laughed outright at the blush that crept up on his older friend's face.

"You just did," Athos remarked drolly with a roll of his blue eyes.

"We get your point, Mis," Porthos own eyes twinkled with mirth.

Standing up, Aramis stretched his long arms out wide and yawned. "Think I'll head on home and settle down with a nice book of poetry." He walked over to a smaller table to retrieve his weapon's belt and sword. Slapping on his hat he turned to look at his friends, his lips quirked upward. "I'll give our youngest at least a day before finding trouble," with a quick wink Aramis disappeared through the door just in time to miss being targeted by Porthos' boot that slammed into it a mere second after his departure.

"Hmmmm," Aramis hummed. "Haven't lost my touch yet." Whistling a cheery tune he headed home.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morning - Royal Palace_

It didn't take long for Duchess de Rambouillet to make her presence felt among the staff at the palace. Hearing the grumblings of many a servant passing by him, d'Artagnan felt it was going to be a very long visit if things didn't improve in that respect. It was with these thoughts in his mind that he bumped into Anne. When he looked straight at her, she winced as if in pain. Grabbing Anne by both arms, and not knowing the cause of her distress, d'Artagnan was ready to catch her in case she passed out. "What is it? Are you feeling ill?"

Snorting a most unladylike sound, Anne pushed away from the boy. "Ill?" she murmured. "I wish it were that simple," Anne threw up her hands in the air. "It hasn't even been a full day and Angelique has my staff up in arms with her demands," she huffed. "I need this... I want that... Isn't there someone who knows how to style my hair?" Anne rolled her eyes watching as a bemused d'Artagnan tried to hold back his laughter. Poking him gently in the chest, Anne snorted again. "My bed was too lumpy... I feel the lack of sleep has created bags under my eyes."

"Oh mon Dieu!" d'Artagnan couldn't hold it in any longer and started laughing quite loudly, earning him odd looks from the staff and guards who were milling about. "You imitate her very well for having just met her."

Waving her hand airily, Anne scoffed. "It is what comes with dealing with past imbeciles." Her words set off another round of amusement from the young man, and Anne had to admit it was pleasing to her ears to hear d'Artagnan's youthful joy. "I will survive I suppose," she heaved a long suffering sigh.

Throwing an arm around her shoulders, d'Artagnan steered her toward Louis' state rooms. "Why don't you fill Louis in on how upset the duchess has made the servants so far."

"Oh poo!" She stared at the lad as if he had lost his mind. "Louis wouldn't give a fig for what the staff feels like and you of all people should know that by now."

"Unfortunately I do," he grinned. "But I've been working on him. Just like I've gotten him to start lowering the taxes and seeing our people's plight."

Patting his cheek, Anne smiled lovingly at d'Artagnan. "You're good for him. You always have been." Looking about her, Anne realized she better make an appearance soon or Louis would be sending out the Red Guards to track her down. "You be good and don't be tempted by her feminine wiles."

"Parbleu!" d'Artagnan shouted in disgust. "You sound just like Athos!"

"He's an honorable man," Anne tapped the youngster's nose. "You should heed his advice."

As Anne left his side, d'Artagnan thought it was time he made use of the Louvre's secret passages.

++++

_The de Rambouillet's rooms_

"I've told you before Vincent that you should listen to Ambassador Pacheco's proposal and not throw it aside like so much garbage," Angelique was annoyed with her husband right now. The man was the most thick skulled individual she had ever had the misfortune to meet. If it wasn't for the fact that she liked the finer things in life, Angelique would never have married a man so much older than she.

"Ma chere, why throw in my lot with Spain at this time?" Vincent didn't give her a chance to say anything as he continued. "At this early stage of the game how would I even know they'd keep their part of the bargain," he shook his head. "Better off keeping my allegiance to France and Louis or I'll find myself," he made a slicing motion across his neck, "losing my head." Giving her a pointed stare, Vincent added, "along with yours in the basket next to mine."

"Ugh!" Angelique pulled a face. "Must you be so graphic, mon cher?" She didn't care what her husband's thoughts were on the matter. If she had to, Angelique would meet with Ambassador Pacheco on her own. That was one of the reasons she urged Vincent to accept the king's invitation to visit. The Spanish embassy was situated in Paris, and in her last correspondence with the ambassador Angelique let it be known they would be here shortly.

++++

Behind the huge painting on the wall of King Henry IV, in the room assigned to the de Rambouillets, d'Artagnan stood peering through small holes that were carefully drilled into the wall so that one could spy through the painting's eyes. With the walls as thin as they were, eavesdropping as the couple conversed was simplicity itself. It was interesting what he had learned already. Apparently it wasn't the husband who Louis needed to worry upon... it was the wife. Hearing the Spanish ambassador's name dropped, d'Artagnan wanted to see what Jean-Armand knew of the man. For now he didn't have any interest in watching the duke and his duchess involved in their bed sport which apparently they were about to do even though it was nearly noon. So quietly d'Artagnan made his way out of the room and into the passageway from whence he came.

++++

_Garrison stable_

"What brings you here, d'Artagnan?" Jean-Armand occasionally liked to see to his own horse every now and then. This was one of those times as he brushed the animal down with long strokes watching as his horse's tail swished back and forth in pleasure.

"A question?" d'Artagnan perched himself on top of one of the posts as he bit into a juicy apple he had snatched off a plate sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard. He only hoped it wasn't meant for someone's lunch. "What do you know of an Ambassador Pacheo?"

His hand stopped it's motion instantly as Jean-Armand whipped his head around to stare at the boy. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I heard an interesting conversation just now between Duke de Rambouillet and his wife."

"They mentioned Pacheo specifically?" Jean-Armand had now lost interest in grooming his horse as he threw the brush down on the ground.

"The duchess was the first one to bring the man up actually," d'Artagnan wiped juice that dribbled down his chin with his sleeve. "I think she's the force behind her husband," he shrugged. "Or she'd like to be."

"I'm not surprised to hear that," Jean-Armand chuckled. "I've already heard the queen moaning about the maddening woman's demands.

Grinning, d'Artagnan nodded. "Oui, Anne already treated me to a litany of Duchess de Rambouillet's complaints."

"What is it the duchess wants her husband to do?"

"To bed down with the Spanish," d'Artagnan finished his apple and pulled out another one for Jean-Armand's horse.

"You spoil him," Jean-Armand huffed as he watched the lad hold out the apple in the palm of his hand.

"A little spoiling every now and then never hurt anyone," d'Artagnan gave his friend _the look_ which never failed to help him get out of punishment for whatever mischief he had been caught up in. "Anyway, it sounded like the duke had already been approached by the ambassador previously and wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of going against Louis."

"The wife?" Jean-Armand fingered his beard. It would figure that the woman would be the one trying to push her husband into intrigue against France.

"A curious creature," d'Artagnan mused with a small smile playing about his lips. "I'm going to be watching her movements closely during their entire stay with us." Picking up the brush Jean-Armand had dropped, d'Artagnan continued with grooming the horse. "You never did answer my question."

"His name is Don Antonio de Mendoza y Pacheco and I don't trust the man an inch," Jean-Armand spat. Holding up a finger he pointed it at the pup. "D'Artagnan, watch your back if you find yourself anywhere near him."

Handing the brush back to Jean-Armand, d'Artagnan clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll be careful." Walking away from the stable he heard the older man's snort of disbelief. Well d'Artagnan could be careful when the occasion warranted. He found himself humming a favorite song of Anne's as he headed back to the palace.

++++

_Royal Palace_

Walking down the long staircase, Angelique noticed the boy, Louis' ward, coming back inside. Trying to remember his name, it finally came to her. Why couldn't she have some fun while killing time waiting for her husband to make his decision. If he was as young as Angelique thought, d'Artagnan would be like putty in her expert hands. "Wait up there, d'Artagnan!" she called out and watched the youngster halt his progress and glance her way. When she reached the last step, Angelique laughed. "So many steps, I was afraid I'd lose my balance and end up in an ungainly heap upon the floor."

Bending over her hand, d'Artagnan bowed and placed a light kiss upon it. "You would never appear ungainly no matter what, Madame." Hanging around Aramis had helped him improve his word skills when dealing with the female of the species. As long as Athos wasn't around to box his ears, d'Artagnan would stretch his wings.

"Glib of tongue I see," Angelique all but purred.

"I have had good teachers," d'Artagnan smiled back.

"Since my husband and I are close acquaintances of King Louis, you may drop the formality and call me Angelique."

"As long as your husband does not mind," d'Artagnan raised a brow."

"Oh him," Angelique pouted. "We have what you might call an open relationship."

"Ah!" d'Artagnan's lips tightened together. "I understand."

Grabbing the young man by his arm, Angelique played the coquette and flirted with him shamelessly. "I wouldn't mind having you as my guide while in Paris," she batted her long eyelashes at him. "I need so many new things and hate to get lost while trying to find my way about the city."

Once again reaching for her hand, d'Artagnan dropped a kiss on it. "That is what I was hoping you would say." He prayed Athos wouldn't sneak up on him at any moment to give him a swift kick in the ass for playing up to her. D'Artagnan honestly wouldn't know how he'd face Athos if he ended up like Aramis hanging from the ledge of a window with his drawers falling down to his knees or worse. It didn't bear thinking upon.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

"You wished to see me, sir?" Athos had been told by Rene that the captain had need of him and so he had Porthos take over training some of the raw recruits.

"It would appear that Duchess de Rambouillet has visions of Spanish coins lining her skirts," Treville chuckled softly as Athos tilted his head to study him in question. "She's the power behind the man."

"I am not surprised," Athos drawled. "But I am astonished by the fact that you found out so quickly since their arrival late yesterday."

"It wasn't I," Treville admitted.

"D'Artagnan?"

"Thank goodness for secret passage ways, eh?" Treville laughed and then turned serious. "The boy also found out that we may have a problem with our Spanish ambassador."

"Pacheco?" Athos frowned, remembering the little man with the beady eyes. He reminded Athos of a hungry rat. And here he thought Richelieu was bad.

"Oui," Treville replied. "I know our lad is going to be playing spy but I warned him to be careful if he ever found himself in Ambassador Pacheco's company."

"You feel d'Artagnan could be in danger then?"

"I don't know," Treville sighed and ran a hand down the back of his neck. "I have a bad feeling that the duchess is going to drag d'Artagnan into her own schemes."

"The child can take care of himself," said a voice from the doorway which took both men by surprise. "And if he can't," Milady smiled wickedly, brandishing her dagger in the air, "I more than certainly can."

++++

_Note:_

The name for the Spanish ambassador I used in my story did exist. He was a Viceroy for his country from 1535-1550. I just liked the sound of his name and wanted to use it.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See bottom for notes.
> 
> ++++

_Outside the Spanish embassy_

After squiring Angelique around town, d'Artagnan couldn't believe how his feet ached. It felt like they had covered one end of Paris to another. His arms were full heavily weighed down by her many purchases, while d'Artagnan kept watch for their carriage. Finally locating it parked down another block from where they were, d'Artagnan was pleased to load Angelique's treasures inside it. Then when he stepped aside for her to enter their carriage d'Artagnan was surprised when Angelique's fan playfully tapped his nose. She then informed him that there was an upcoming appointment Angelique had to keep and would meet up with d'Artagnan later back at the palace.

So that's how he currently found himself watching the Spanish guards from his secluded spot hidden behind a nearby decrepit building. Circling around the rear, luck was with him as d'Artagnan spotted an open window. Sloppy he thought, very sloppy but it was a terrific opportunity for himself as he quietly gained entry. Treading softly his luck held out as d'Artagnan realized the inside wasn't as heavily guarded as the outside was.

Hearing sounds of an on-going conversation, d'Artagnan followed it until he discovered the ambassador's office where Pacheco was currently playing host to Angelique. There was an empty room directly across from the ambassador's and d'Artagnan decided it was as good a place as any to hide in. He was able to hear them quite ably for their distinct voices carried over well.

++++

_Ambassador Don Antoinio de Mendoza y Pacheco's office_

"I'm fed up with Vincent's dithering about!" Angelique paced back and forth in front of the ambassador who patiently listened to her outburst from behind his desk. Suddenly Angelique stopped, pivoted on one heel and slapped her hands down on Pacheco's desk. Leaning down low enough for him to stare at her decollete she said, "If my husband won't deal with you then I most certainly will!"

Steepling his short fingers together, Pacheco stared thoughtfully at her. "Rather intriguing offer I must admit."

"We'll give you all the support you need," Angelique snapped her long, elegant fingers in front of Pacheco's face. "I'll personally guarantee it."

"I believe you, Madame." Pacheco wasn't used to dealing with women in matters as delicate as this one was, but his country needed the valuable support of men like Duke de Rambouillet who were on the edge of the precipice. Not quite sure where their true allegiance should be pledged.

"Do we have an agreement or not?" Folding her arms, Angelique glared impatiently at the ambassador, tapping her one foot rapidly.

"Make sure you fill your part of the bargain," Pacheco stood up, he was a short man barely five foot six inches in height and felt ridiculously small compared to the duchess as she towered over him. "That is all that will be required of you."

This was more than enough for d'Artagnan to hear as he quietly left the way he had entered.

++++

_Royal Palace_

"How do we explain this to Louis?" d'Artagnan ran agitated fingers through his hair. "We cannot implicate the duchess as nothing untoward has occurred yet and as far as the duke's concerned he'd be just an innocent pawn in all of this."

"As far as we know," Jean-Armand remarked, remembering what had happened to Comte Dawnay because of the man's aspirations. "You and I will have to be extra vigilant in observing Duchess de Rambouillet's movements from here on out." He reached over to place his hand on the side of the boy's face, patting it gently. "I need you to be extremely careful."

"I'm not afraid of that little weasel of a man," d'Artagnan boasted.

"Non, not of the man himself but of what he could order others to do to you if he ever catches you hiding in the shadows the way you're want to do."

Having nothing to add to that, d'Artagnan drew close to Jean-Armand, giving him a hearty hug. "You and Louis worry too much on my account at times."

Pointing to his ever greying head of hair, or lack thereof, Jean-Armand smiled thinly. "You are the reason for these, d'Artagnan," he huffed. "I've even noticed Louis, as young as he is, sporting a few now."

"I will not be your scape goat for that," d'Artagnan teased. "I'm sure it comes from the pressures of being the captain of the finest regiment in all of France."

"Explain away Louis' then, eh?" Jean-Armand challenged.

"Pressures of leading our country," d'Artagnan replied, then relented. "I'll admit that I may have contributed to a few of his grey hairs from time to time."

"Ah," Jean-Armand chuckled. "It's nice that you're taking partial blame." Then steering the conversation back on topic, he added, "For now we will keep Louis in the dark until we actually have evidence against her and possibly the duke as well. There's no sense giving Louis ulcers needlessly," he snorted, a wry grin crossing Jean-Armand's lined face. "It may even come to nothing if the duchess can't twist her husband's arm."

"Angelique may not need too," d'Artagnan offered. "She just may do all the dirty work herself."

Trying not to show his concern again for the lad, Jean-Armand simply contemplated d'Artagnan's words. Changing the subject once again he said, "I believe the inseparables have missed your company today."

"I guess I need to show my face then," d'Artagnan chuckled. "Then later, after the de Rambouillets retire for the evening, I'll hide behind King Henry IV again."

++++

_Aramis apartments_

"Sorry I haven't been around today but I've been doing work for Louis for the better part of it," d'Artagnan grinned, making himself comfortable as he sat down beside Athos. " _Miss me_?" he grinned cheekily.

"Like a thorn in my flesh," Aramis chuckled delightfully.

"Like a pain in my arse," Porthos laughed loudly.

"All right, Athos," chagrined, d'Artagnan slanted a curious look at the silent man beside him. "You want to put me in my place too?"

Smirking at the boy, Athos shoved a glass of Anjou into d'Artagnan's hand. "Drink up, child."

"What have you three been up to while I've been busy?" d'Artagnan slowly sipped his wine.

"Oh this and that," Aramis replied, placing his feet upon the table as he leaned back in his chair.

"I see," d'Artagnan smirked. "Out of _this and that_ ," he smiled into his glass, "did any work get accomplished?"

"You wound us, mon frere!" Aramis leaned over and reached out to cuff the youngster lightly up the back side of the whelp's head.

"Not entirely," Athos drawled with a glance at the two older men.

"What ya mean by that remark?" Porthos grunted, not liking the reference that he didn't pull his weight today.

"I at least had serious matters to attend," Athos lifted his head staring intently at Porthos and Aramis as his friends squirmed in their chairs.

"And you say _we_ didn't," Aramis threw Porthos an irritated look, catching the puzzled one of his much larger comrade.

"You spent most of the day flirting with the new palace maid." Catching the astonished look of dismay on Aramis' blushing face, Athos grinned. "Whereas Porthos there was trying to fleece the hard earned pay away from his fellow brothers from behind the back of our stables."

Not holding back, laughing loudly, d'Artagnan could see both his brothers were stunned. "So same ole, same ole then."

"In a nutshell," Athos finished his drink, catching the two men frowning back at him.

Intercepting that look, d'Artagnan reminded them. "You guys should know better by now that nothing escapes Athos' notice."

Grumbling about the unfairness of it all that Athos seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, both Porthos and Aramis didn't bother defending themselves since they were in the wrong.

Studying the boy, Athos contemplated d'Artagnan's earlier words to them. "I know your assignment is of the utmost import right now and so I tell you that on the morrow the rest of us have to journey to Aquitaine."

"Yeah," Porthos took a swig of his drink. "Have to ferret out the malcontents interested in switching sides over to Spain."

"Which part of Aquitaine do you travel?" d'Artagnan realized this had something to do with the unrest that's been rearing its ugly head lately in France.

"The south-western region, along the ocean and the Pyrenees mountain range, on the border with Spain," Aramis supplied as he finally removed his feet from the table. "It shouldn't even take us all that long to get there." He reached over for the remaining wine in the nearly empty carafe that sat on the table.

"Oui, about two weeks if I recall," d'Artagnan told him, seeing the surprise register on Aramis' face. "I'm familiar with that area," he casually shrugged, "I am after all from Gascony," he grinned, then as his grin faded he asked, "was this by Louis' orders?" He wondered why Jean-Armand hadn't seen fit to mention this to him earlier.

"Treville has just informed us," Athos noted the strange look that crossed the lad's face. "You didn't know?"

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head. "And I just left him in the palace not more than forty five minutes ago."

"Perhaps the captin' didn't want ya ta worry none about us," Porthos offered.

" _Perhaps_ ," d'Artagnan repeated, stabbing all three men with a more than concerned look and decided to let them know what he had discovered so far. "Today Angelique met with the Spanish ambassador and pledged her help to Pacheco's cause."

"It would appear that we all have our work cut out for us," Athos remarked solemnly with a glance around the table.

"Some more than others," Porthos jerked his head at their youngest member.

"I can take care of myself," d'Artagnan growled low, irritated that everyone worried over his welfare. "It's you lot I'm not too sure about."

"Gettin' a might to big for your britches there, whelp."

"I just know the trouble you three can get involved in," d'Artagnan winked. "Especially without me there to help pull your fat out of the fire."

"Oh there you go!" Aramis chortled. "I think it's time for all good petit garcons to go to bed."

"All right, gentlemen," d'Artagnan scooted his chair back and stood up, stretching his arms high over his head yawning hugely. "It has rather been a long day one way or the other."

"Night, whelp," Porthos waved a lazy hand in the boy's direction, watching d'Artagnan take his leave.

"Sleep tight," Aramis added with a sly smile dancing about his lips.

Observing something relatively close to amusement trying to break free from Athos, d'Artagnan pouted and held up a finger in the older Musketeer's direction. "Don't you dare say _don't let the bed bugs bite_."

A sardonic twist to his lips, Athos dipped his head. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Muttering about _mother hens_ as he left their side, the door closed quietly behind d'Artagnan.

Pouring himself another drink Athos continued to stare at the closed door, trying not to dwell on the trouble the lad could find himself in without their back up.

++++

_Notes:_

Aquitaine is located in the south-western part of Metropolitan France, along the Atlantic Ocean and the Pyrenees mountain range on the border with Spain.  
From the 13th century until the French Revolution, Aquitaine was usually known as Guyenne.  
In the 12th century it formed with Gascony the duchy of Aquitaine Guienne then formed a government (gouvernement général) which from the 17th century onwards was united with Gascony. The government of Guienne and Gascony, with its capital at Bordeaux, lasted till the end of the ancien régime (1792).


	27. Chapter 27

_Aquitaine, south-western region bordering Spain_

_Twelve days later, for the three Musketeers made considerably good time_

“We’re barely here a couple of days and we get ourselves captured,” Porthos' dark eyes gleamed dangerously in Aramis' direction as he hung from chains in the darkened cell he currently occupied. “And we were worried about leavin’ d’Art behind thinkin’ the whelp would be the one ta get inta trouble.” Directly opposite him was Aramis, likewise chained. “Great examples we are for the kid.”

“How were we to know that Monsieur and Madame Berruyer were sympathizers to the Spanish cause,” he tried to wriggle his wrists through the chains but only succeeded in chafing his skin raw all the more until blood began to run down his arms staining his sleeves. “They seemed like such a nice older couple,” if he could have Aramis would have simply shrugged Porthos' remark away. “And I was so enjoying the sights of the lovely countryside we traveled in.”

“Ya mean _enjoyin’_ and flirtin' with all the lovely wenches ya seen walkin' about these parts,” Porthos pointed out, none too pleased at his brother's actions. Aramis would never change but then again he wouldn’t have wanted his friend too. The day Aramis stopped noticing women, no matter what the age, would be the day they buried the Musketeer.

Watching Aramis continue to test his chains, Porthos leaned his head back against the wall and tried to relax his strained muscles. He didn’t bother trying to escape his own any longer as Porthos had tried the same thing for the past thirty minutes or so with no results. “Shame if the pup saw us in this position,” he stabbed Aramis with an ironic look, “we’d never live it down.”

“Don’t you think I realize that!” Aramis snapped in irritation. “We made damn rookie mistakes on this one! The journey must have addled our brains or something.”

“Or somethin’,” Porthos grunted. “Wonder how Athos is.” He was concerned as it had been nearly an hour ago when two men came in, unchained Athos and lead their leader out the cell door. “Hope he gives em’ hell!”

Chuckling, Aramis appeared amused at his friend’s words. “There’s _hell_ and then there’s Athos’ version of it.”

“Too true, mon frère,” Porthos laughed. “Think they’ll feed us?”

“We’re chained in a damn cell,” Aramis rolled his eyes, amused despite himself, “and all you can think upon is your empty belly?”

Porthos had the grace to blush as his dark face infused with red. “I do my best escapin’ routines on a full stomach.”

“You haven’t managed to break those chains so far, mon ami,” Aramis snickered. “What makes you feel that if our captors give us food it’ll change our current situation for the better, eh?” he tilted his head and watched Porthos work that one out for himself.

“Eh, Mis… shut up!” Porthos growled or that could have been his stomach. At this point he wasn’t too sure.

As they continued to bicker back and forth, the door creaked open and the same two men dragged Athos inside chaining him back up again in the corner of their cell.

As the men left them with barely a glance in the other two Musketeer’s direction, Aramis gave Athos the once over looking for obvious signs of torture and seeing none felt greatly relieved. Of course Aramis couldn’t see inside his friend’s head and knew mental torture could prove just as troublesome. “So, what did they ask you?”

“Actually,” Athos drawled in his most aristocratic tone, “nothing”.

“You’ve been gone a long time and they asked ya _nothin’_?” Porthos frowned at him. "There had ta be more to it than that."

“Of course there was,” Athos replied as his gaze flew back and forth between the other two men.

“Well, spit it out, man! We ain't gettin' any younger hangin' around this damn place!” Porthos wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush. He liked plain speaking and sometimes when Athos or Aramis got on their high horses on topics that he knew nothing about, it left him out in the cold.

“They told me what they intended to do with us instead,” Athos explained.

“Are we to be killed or turned over to the Spanish for them to have fun with?” Aramis felt badly enough at their capture but how d’Artagnan would feel afterwards, finding out what had transpired here, didn’t sit well with him.

“The latter I’m afraid,” Athos wiped his face of any emotion, not showing his close friends how dire the situation had truly become. “On the brighter side of things," Athos gave them a lopsided smile, "the Spanish may decide to use us as bargaining chips.”

“The way we were caught like rank amateurs,” Aramis’ eyes darkened as he remembered how they innocently took that husband and wife at face value, “it’s a wonder His Majesty would want to make a deal for our return.”

“We could do with an escape plan, gentlemen,” Athos lowered his voice in case their jailers were listening in.

“I got nothin’,” Porthos reluctantly admitted but was hopeful that the others could come up with a workable plan.

“Aramis?” Athos glanced toward the marksman who still struggled uselessly against his chains.

“Unless we can magically get out of these,” Aramis rattled the links, “I’m afraid escape will be impossible.”

“ _Impossible_ is not in my vocabulary,” Athos retorted grimly.

“Of course it ain’t,” Porthos snorted and observed Athos roll his eyes.

“I hate to say this,” Athos stared at the cement floor, “but we could do with d’Artagnan’s help on this one.”

“The whelp’s back in Paris doggin’ Angelique’s dainty footprints all around the city and the ambassador's place,” Porthos glared in surprise at the older man’s admission. “Unless one of the lad’s hidden talents is mind readin’,” he glanced at Aramis as the other man’s lips began to twitch upward, “I kinda doubt d’Art will know what’s happenin’ to us.”

“We’ll just have to come up with something spectacular ourselves then,” Aramis offered up with a wide grin spreading across his handsome face.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Athos wrinkled his nose up in distaste and didn't bother looking at either of his brothers.

++++

After much discussion, it was decided by the Berruyer’s and their neighbors to send a missive to Paris informing King Louis of the capture of his Musketeers. In the meantime they would send a few of their own people over the Spanish border to inform the powers that be to take these soldiers off of their hands.

So by the time the missive was delivered by special courier to the king, and the Spanish had been made aware of the goings on in Aquitaine, it had been short of a few weeks.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Having come back from the palace, after Louis had handed over the letter to him that he had received earlier today from the malcontents in Aquitaine, Jean-Armand was ready to have kittens. But Louis and he had discussed the matter at great length and together they came up with a conceivable rescue plan. He only prayed it worked. Once he was once again back behind his desk, the first order of business was to have one of his men find d'Artagnan. So he sent Rene off to gather up the lad from whatever hiding place he was sneaking about in.

It wasn't all together long before d'Artagnan came running into Jean-Armand's office demanding to know what was going on. "What the deuce is so urgent? I was trailing after Angelique," he shot Jean-Armand an annoyed look, "as if you didn't already know."

Waving the letter in the air, Jean-Armand huffed. "This is more important." It only took several minutes as he explained the contents and what it meant for Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out the only reason they informed us of my men's capture was to rub Louis' royal nose in the dirt with it."

Indeed curious as to how the inseparables managed to get themselves caught, d'Artagnan knew that would be his first question he'd pose them when finally meeting up with his friends. "I assume you need me to take several units to Aquitaine to get them out of this mess they landed in before they're turned over to the Spanish authorities?"

"If you would be so kind," Jean-Armand casually responded. "If you are able, try to shave as much time as you can from your journey to get there. I feel time will be of the essence."

"I know the sooner I do the better my chances are of retrieving them before they are taken away," d'Artagnan agreed with that sound judgment.

"What doesn't make any sense is the fact they told us they sent their people to Spain at the same time they had this letter delivered here," Jean-Armand slumped back down in his chair, holding his aching head in his hands.

"Perhaps there is no rhyme or reason behind it," d'Artagnan offered with a light shrug, not about to worry over little things such as that. "You have your men picked?"

"Oui, they're ready and waiting for you, d'Artagnan."

"I'll gather my things and head out shortly then," as d'Artagnan's fingertips touched the doorknob he paused and glanced back over his shoulder at Jean-Armand. "By the way, how did Louis receive the news?"

"His words were not befitting a monarch of the realm to speak," Jean-Armand lifted one hand in the air and let it drop listlessly with a rueful shake of his head.

"In other words," d'Artagnan grinned, "Louis' in a royal snit... again."

His eyes twinkling, Jean-Armand agreed. "In a manner of speaking." Then he thought upon another subject he forgot to broach with the boy. "Since the de Rambouillets have unexpectedly delayed their departure for home..." he eyed the lad with a knowing look and that was when d'Artagnan interrupted him.

"You know very well the reason behind that," d'Artagnan's brown eyes looked heavenward, not wanting his friend to go on about it.

"Only because of you," Jean-Armand admitted cheerfully. "While the duchess remains unaware you've been watching her activities from afar, she's been busy chasing after you," he chuckled. "In the meantime she can't seem to be able to get her husband to turn traitor to the crown either. It would appear that Duchess Angelique hasn't yet figured out a way to convince Duke Vincent to her way of thinking."

"I'm quite sure that Ambassador Pacheco is becoming quite impatient with her as well," d'Artagnan said. "To convince the duke to extend their stay Angelique told him that she was so enamored of Paris life and all it has to offer that she more or less demanded to stay here indefinitely," d'Artagnan smirked, remembering the discussion between husband and wife that seemed to endlessly go on and on while he eavesdropped and tried not to become bored with the whole conversation.

"Louis wasn't disappointed they made the decision to stay as he likes Duke Vincent's company," Jean-Armand laughed, also remembering how the duke trounced Louis in a game of chess last eve.

"But poor Anne wants to do bodily harm to Angelique and who is to say Anne won't without me there to referee," d'Artagnan enjoyed a second or two of amusement before leaving Jean-Armand's company. Flashing him a cheeky grin, he held up his hand in farewell. "First Louis owed me and now Athos, Aramis and Porthos will as well once I've freed them."

Ah, the confidence of youth, Jean-Armand thought as he watched the lad leave. Indeed, his inseparables will at first chafe at the bit being rescued by the pup. But perhaps it would be a lesson well learned by his seasoned soldiers... or not.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to put on here that this particular chapter was for Buckeye01 who wanted to see more of heroic d'Artagnan.  
> This one's for you!
> 
> ++++

_Aquitaine, near the Spanish border_

Its felt like since forever that d'Artagnan had seen his three friends. Yet he and the two squads of Musketeers traveling with him had gotten here in under two weeks as Jean-Armand had hoped. Still from the last time until this moment it had been over a month since he'd been in the inseparable's company. A long time to be apart. He prayed they had arrived in time before these malcontents had turned his brothers over to the Spanish for inquisition.

Holding up his hand for the other men behind him to halt, d'Artagnan took out his spyglass and looked around the area. This was the location that Jean-Armand told him Athos and the others were to scout out. As he turned his head slowly, d'Artagnan paused to focus on a large house. Thinking he was surely seeing things, but pleased nonetheless, d'Artagnan saw his three friends apparently being allowed to stretch their legs on the grounds. Re-focusing his spyglass he could see Athos, Porthos and Aramis clearly as well as the many armed guards surrounding them.

Turning in his saddle d'Artagnan smiled to the other Musketeers that accompanied him. Including himself they numbered eleven men in all. They were well seasoned soldiers and more than capable to take on the rabble that dared to hold the king's Musketeers prisoner.

"Rene," d'Artagnan signaled for the man to come over and he waited until Rene's horse drew abreast of his own. "Take Bernard, Robert, Osmont and Alain with you and circle around the back of that house."

"And while we're doing that, d'Artagnan?" Rene smirked with a knowing grin.

"The rest of us will be seen to only be six Musketeers coming to the aid of our captive brothers," d'Artagnan gave Rene his most innocent look. Seeing Renee's smirk widen all the more he chuckled.

"I assume you will signal us to come out at the appropriate moment?" Rene asked but already knew the answer.

"Of course," d'Aragnan grinned. "Wouldn't want to hog up all the action."

"There will be more than enough malcontents to go around," Leroy added causing much amusement among the rest of the Musketeers.

While Rene took his squad out, d'Artagnan's hand reached past his shoulder to make sure his two swords that were criss-crossed on his back were secured in their leather sheath. The rest of his arsenal consisted of a musket and pistol both of which were tucked into his weapon's belt, along with his main gauche, poignard and Shurikens. He was ready and a quick glance toward the others told him they were as well.

++++

_Berruyer's residence_

"At least they've treated us decently after freeing us from that damn cell!" Aramis remarked as he walked beside his brothers.

"Apparently things more important than retrieving us have kept the Spanish from taking us prisoner as of yet," Athos responded dryly.

"I'm just glad they decided to move us into a room, small though it is," Porthos grunted. "Anythins' better than where we were and those shackles were a damn nuisance!"

"I'd love to make a run for it," Aramis' eyes took in the heavily armed men covering them, "but I'd hate to have my uniform riddled with holes."

Athos snorted softly while Porthos clapped a hand on the back of Aramis' neck, shaking it gently.

They all realized there was no hope of escape the way things stood and not knowing if Treville yet knew of their situation they weren't positive if help was already on its way. So it truly came as a surprise when suddenly they found themselves being ushered back inside the house without a word of explanation.

"Wonder what's up with this?" Porthos tried to look over his shoulder but was shoved hard for his efforts by one of their guards. "All right!" he snapped. "I'm goin'! No need ta get pushy!"

Aramis though did manage to catch a glimpse of riders approaching and when he turned his head back gave a quick wink to Athos. "Remember when you said we could use d'Artagnan's help?"

Athos' blue eyes widened slightly. "You mean?" He pointed behind him.

"D'Art to the rescue, eh?" Porthos wanted to shout it out loud but was satisfied to say it in a whisper to his brothers. But then he too caught sight of their rescuers and wasn't pleased. "There's only the kid and five Musketeers," Porthos frowned. "That ain't hardly enough."

"That thought did cross my mind," Athos drawled. He wondered what Treville thought sending so few men to garner their release. Perhaps there was more to this than met the eye. For all their sakes he certainly hoped there was.

In the meantime the inseparables watched, listened and waited.

++++

_Back outside the house_

"Who is in charge?" d'Artagnan rode straight up to one of the guards who had his musket trained on him.

The man simply stared at the boy and shrugged.

Leaning forward in his saddle, d'Artagnan lazily grinned. "Really? You're going to give me the silent treatment." Whipping out one of his Shurikens, d'Artagnan threw it with deadly accuracy at the stupid man's right shoulder. Wincing in sympathy as the guard howled in pain, d'Artagnan held out both hands. "I did ask nicely." He wasn't patient enough to wait for answers at this juncture and the next man that hesitated with information might just draw his last breath.

Rushing out of the house came an older couple, d'Artagnan guessed them to be somewhere in their mid fifties. Time for introductions he thought. "I am d'Artagnan of the king's Musketeers," he tapped his pauldron for emphasis and sweeping his arm out wide, d'Artagnan encompassed the rest of the squad with him. "You have acquired something of ours we would like back," he smiled at them most charmingly. Cocking his head to the side, d'Artagnan studied the pair. "Will you hand them over or do we fight for them?" His hand hovered over his musket. "Believe me when I tell you that we _are_ prepared to fight for our men."

"The king's no friend to us!" Monsieur Berruyer spat, thinking that this boy seemed to young to be one of His Majesty's men and wondered if someone were pulling a prank on him. But it wasn't a welcome one if it were and timed badly to boot.

"Our sovereign taxes and taxes us until we have no more to give," Madame Berruyer spoke up. "Why should we bow to a king who could care less for his subjects?"

"King Louis has worked on lowering those taxes you speak upon," d'Artagnan said. "It is a slow process but it has already started with his subjects in Paris." Seeing that the couple did not appear convinced by his words d'Artagnan added, "Evidently news is slow to spread."

"We have no ones word that this is true except your own," Monsieur Berruyer questioned.

"That is correct," d'Artagnan nodded. "But I represent the king as I am here to retrieve his missing Musketeers," he stabbed the husband and wife with a fierce look, "and _I... do... not... lie!_ "

"Matters not," Monsieur Berruyer sniffed in disdain. "The ones you seek have already been turned over to the Spanish."

"Never play poker, Monsieur," d'Artagnan's mild huff of amusement made the men with him chuckle among themselves. "Not only does your face give the game away, but I saw with my very own eyes the three men we came here to get walking outside."

The Berruyers looked at each other knowing they couldn't keep up the charade any longer. Monsieur Berruyer held up his hand and shouted out a command to his men.

++++

_Back inside the house_

"What the hell's goin' on out there?" Porthos growled low. He hated feeling useless as he did now.

"It appears the Berruyers are going to fight," Athos replied more calmly than he felt.

"D'Art only has five men with em'," Porthos repeated as his glance slid toward Aramis and could see that his brother was just as confused by the lack of support.

"Looks can appear deceiving," Athos noted grimly, thinking that perhaps the boy has something up his sleeve.

"Did ya see somethin' then?"

"Ah, Porthos," Athos smiled fondly at his big friend, "It is what I do not see that counts." His response he knew just confused Porthos all the more.

++++

_Back outside house_

Before Berruyer could shout out his orders, d'Artagnan interrupted him. "You don't really want to do that," he warned, shaking his head back and forth while raising his own hand that held a pistol. Firing it up into the air, Rene and his men instantly came out from behind the house to surround all the guards out front.

"Where are all our other men?" Madame Berruyer asked of her stunned husband.

"We took them out already, Madame," Rene threw a wry grin d'Artagnan's way.

Vaulting from his mount, d'Artagnan walked up to the now frightened out of their wits couple. "Now we're more than prepared to turn this into a blood bath to get our men back." Observing that a cat must have ran away with their tongues, d'Artagnan hoped they wouldn't prove to be stubborn as well and would see sense. "But the question remains... _are you?_ "

Monsieur Berruyer rapidly conversed with his wife and then faced the boy again. "Take them!" he announced harshly. "They've been nothing but burdensome to me since their capture."

Walking closer to the house, d'Artagnan made sure his voice carried inside. "Ah! They have been known to be that and more."

++++

_Back inside the house_

"I'm gonna tan that whelp's hide myself," Porthos groused, but he smiled just the same, "after I hug em' ta death first!"

_Back outside the house_

Not moving a muscle as he kept the couple within his eyesight, d'Artagnan jerked his head toward the house. The tightening of his jaw the only indication that his patience was waning.

"Albert! Paul! Pascal!" Berruyer hollered to the men stationed inside his home. "Release the Musketeers!"

Slowly making their appearance, the inseparables noted d'Artagnan standing off to one side armed to the teeth and grinning like a fool.

"Oh we are sooooo in trouble," Aramis muttered as he saw a total of eleven Musketeers, including d'Artagnan, all sporting broad smirks.

"Ya think?" Porthos laughed as he reached the lad first and picked him up, twirling d'Artagnan around with the whelp clinging to him like a little monkey.

"All right, all right, Porthos!" d'Artagnan's laughter rang delightfully in the air, lightening all the Musketeer's hearts. Once more back on his feet, d'Artagnan slapped the larger man on the back. "Glad to see you as well, mon frere."

Walking over to their pup, Aramis hooked his arm around the youngster's neck and pulled him in tight, kissing the top of d'Artagnan's head. "Many thanks for the rescue."

"It was the least I could do," d'Artagnan snorted. "It gave me a good excuse to get out of Paris for awhile too."

Feeling a gentle squeezing on the back of his neck from behind, d'Artagnan turned to stare into Athos' chagrined features.

"You'll not believe this but several weeks back I mentioned to Aramis and Porthos that we could do with your help." Athos then clasped the boy on his shoulders, drawing him in for a brief hug.

Ducking his head, d'Artagnan gave a careless shrug as he pulled away from Athos' searching gaze. "Oddly enough I do believe you."

"D'Artagnan!" Rene called out. "What about everyone here? There are too many to take back with us to Paris?"

"My orders were that if our men came to no harm we were to bring them back home and just leave the ones responsible with words of warning only."

"What if they had killed us or already turned us over to the Spanish?" Athos admitted his curiosity was peaked as to the lad's orders. But seeing the hardened eyes in that young face turn his way, Athos didn't need the explanation put into words any longer.

Going to stand in front of the Berruyer's once more, d'Artagnan's eyes were like flint. "Be aware that King Louis now knows this entire region is hostile toward the crown. His eyes will be upon you from here on out. If word ever reaches the palace that you or your people are conspiring with the Spanish again," d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed to mere slits, "justice will be swift and unmerciful."

Walking away, d'Artagnan went to say a few words to Guiot. Turning back he told his friends, "We're bringing out your horses now."

"Ain't ya gonna ask us, squirt?"

Knowing exactly what Porthos referred too, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Of course. But I prefer to do that once we're en route home."

"You had to ask him that," Aramis whispered in Porthos' ear.

Athos was eager to just put this whole miserable incident behind them. In the meantime he would try to come up with a plausible explanation that didn't make them appear like three imbeciles.


	29. Chapter 29

_Same day, En Route to Paris - Later in the evening_

Sitting around the campfire, d'Artagnan sat close to his brothers whom he had greatly missed during their long separation. Though he wasn't above teasing the inseparables over the fiasco that had become of their mission to Aquitaine. "So," d'Artagnan nudged Athos in the side, "how come you to have been captured then?" Throwing a grin over at Rene, Osmont and Alain who sat across from the campfire, d'Artagnan knew they had been eager to hear this as well. So too were the rest of the Musketeers who sat in front of another campfire opposite them.

"Ya just knew the whelp was gonna ask us that," Porthos rolled his eyes and glared at Aramis' chagrined features.

"You were the one who told us the Berruyers were of no threat," Athos voice dripped sarcasm as he too threw a glacial stare at the marksman.

If the looks that were being exchanged between the inseparables were anything to go by, d'Artagnan thought that their tale should prove highly entertaining. Observing Aramis squirm under the heated looks from his two brothers, d'Artagnan's curiosity peaked all the more. "Aramis?" he tilted his head slightly as he studied the sudden tightening of the other man's lips. "What went wrong?"

"What went right?" Athos threw out, not caring about the further distress he added to the already guilt stricken Aramis who appeared to want nothing but to hide behind Porthos' broad back. 

"I simply put my trust in the wrong people," Aramis responded quietly, "it does happen from time to time." Narrowing his eyes he stabbed Athos and Porthos with a petulant look, "And not just to me."

"Oh come now," d'Artagnan scoffed. "I think we," and with a sweep of his arm indicated all the Musketeers in attendance, "deserve a lengthier explanation than that, mon frere."

"Tell em'," Porthos growled. "Else I will."

Slapping his hands on his thighs, Aramis grimaced. "As you noticed the Berruyers were an older couple," he sighed. "I'm not making any excuses here but perhaps that put me off my guard."

" _Off guard_ ," Porthos snorted. "That's one way ta look at it."

Throwing a dirty look at the larger man, Aramis picked up his story. "Anyway I questioned them at length if there had been any talk of unrest in the region," he brushed his hand through his wayward, dark curls, "Somewhere along the way I began to trust them."

"That was Mis' first mistake," Porthos grunted in disgust as he remembered being chained up in that cell. Not the most pleasant of surroundings to find ones self in and one that he'd care not to repeat any time soon.

To that remark, d'Artagnan's brow raised upward as he canted his head enquiringly toward Athos who had both hands raised up in the air as if in surrender.

"Do not look at me for answers, d'Artagnan," Athos shook his head. "In this we let Aramis take the lead."

"Shoulda been you," Porthos bumped his shoulder into Athos'.

"Do carry on, Aramis," d'Artagnan encouraged while leaning in toward Rene, who sat on his other side, and listening as Rene whispered something into d'Artagnan's ear. A devilish light then entered his eyes as he focused his attention back on Aramis.

"Ah hell!" Porthos muttered, wondering what was behind that disturbing glint in the whelp's eyes.

"Yeah I see it too," Aramis mumbled.

"The boy's just aching to get it out of his system," Athos told his two miserable friends as they all traded annoyed looks.

"What," d'Artagnan began to laugh all the harder from the teasing remark Rene had just told him, "what was your second error, Aramis?"

Caught off guard, Aramis frowned at the lad's question and reluctantly admitted, "Turning my back on them."

"That's when Athos and I were headin' ta our horses and all hell broke loose," Porthos added.

"By the time we realized what was happening," Athos went on to explain, "we were surrounded by the Berruyer's armed retainers and their close neighbors who trained their weapons on us."

"Well, ain't ya gonna ask it?" Porthos huffed as he noticed d'Artagnan's laughter hadn't subsided yet as their story unfolded.

"Ask what?" d'Artagnan played innocent but with Rene beside him also shaking with amusement, d'Artagnan had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"D'Artagnan's enjoying this far too much for my liking," Aramis noted Porthos and Athos nod their heads in tandem.

"About the third mistake," Porthos' irritation grew the more he saw d'Artagnan not trying very hard to contain his mirth.

"I didn't realize there was one," d'Artagnan swiped at his eyes that were overflowing with tears. "It sounded pretty much to me that all it took were _two_ mistakes leading up to your capture."

"But do tell us all about the _third_ one?" Osmont's face was red from either laughing so hard or from sitting close to the warmth of the roaring flames that were burning hot.

"Aramis, since that also involved you," Athos announced rather wryly, "do the honors if you will."

Clapping his hands in delight to find out it was Aramis once again, d'Artagnan eyed the sharpshooter with anticipation.

"There was a moment after we were ushered inside the home where I had an opportunity to disarm one of the guards," Aramis cringed at what he had to admit next. It certainly didn't put him in an attractive light as one of the king's elite force.

"Apparently it didn't work," Alain nodded in understanding. Figuring that Aramis simply was overpowered.

"Mis never got the chance ta take it," Porthos' scowl deepened, making his dark-skinned features appear harsher than they were as the flickering flames from their campfire danced high.

Knowing all eyes were turned on him again, Aramis grabbed his hat, jammed it on his head and tipped it low so as to avoid everyone's incredulous reactions, especially d'Artagnan's. "I got momentarily distracted."

Confused at first, d'Artaganan tried to peer underneath the rim of Aramis' hat to see his friend's face, only to be pushed away by the force of Athos' hands. Folding his arms, d'Artagnan studied Aramis' body language and could tell that their sometime medic was embarrassed. "Couldn't be any worse than misplacing your trust in the wrong people."

"Oh yeah it can," "Porthos said with feeling, earning a hurt look from Aramis.

"Athos, if Aramis won't elaborate for us will you?" d'Artagnan waited to see if the older man would open up to them again.

"There was a pretty lass coming down a flight of stairs at the exact time when I knew Aramis was going to make his move on the guard," Athos winced at the smirk now making its way across the boy's face.

"First the older couple and then the _girl_ ," d'Artagnan grinned and poked Rene in the ribs. 'I'm starting to see a pattern here."

"Anyway," Athos threw a deadly glare d'Artagnan's way, silently telling the pup to shut up, "that sums up how we came to be their prisoners."

"When we arrived you were all walking on the grounds freely," Alain pointed out. "Released for good behavior then?" 

"Our _behavior_ or lack thereof had nothing to do with our release," Athos stared into the firelight. "It seemed that word from the Spanish authorities they had contacted was too long in coming and so the Berruyers took pity on us. Not feeling it right to keep us confined for all that time in our cell and therefore decided upon installing us in a single room on the upper floor of their house."

"They couldn't have been all bad then if they showed sympathy to your plight like that," d'Artagnan mused. "Eh, Aramis?" But no answer was forthcoming from his brother and d'Artagnan figured Aramis' mood had soured from all the questions he and the others had peppered him with.

"How do you think this will go down with Captain Treville?" Osmont's direct gaze landed on Athos whose blue eyes hardened to diamonds at his question.

"I cannot even begin to speculate on that," Athos' stiff, cultured tones should have warned Osmont that his question wasn't appreciated. Yet it hadn't put the younger Musketeer off as he posed another one.

"What about the king?" What will he think?" Osmont glanced at d'Artagnan for an answer.

"I'll advise Jean-Armand to inform him when he feels Louis will be in a more receptive mood to hear how my brothers got caught up in events apparently out of their control." Giving the inseparables a cheeky grin, d'Artagnan stood up, announced he was all for hitting the sack and went to retrieve his bedroll.

"Think that's the end of it?" Porthos locked eyes with both Athos and Aramis. His friends shrugged their shoulders in turn.

"It's still quite a ride for home," Aramis pointed over to the other group of Musketeers still warming themselves by their own campfire. "Going by everyone's smirks I'm sure the _ribbing_ has only just begun, mon amis."

++++

_Next morning_

As Aramis had predicted, their journey home was fraught with gentle teasing words from d'Artagnan right down to nearly every man among the two squads that had come to their rescue. That the three of them deserved it, most especially himself, made it somewhat less difficult to swallow his pride. He only prayed that Captain Treville would look upon their capture in the same humorous light as their companions have.

++++

_Paris - Musketeer Garrison_

Treville was waiting for them at the gate, having been notified by Bernard that had been sent off ahead of the company when d'Artagnan and the others arrived in the city. Immediately his eyes landed on the inseparables. Breathing more easily now that it appeared as if none of them were the worse for wear, he waved in greeting. "The prodigals have arrived I see!" he chuckled at the comical looks gracing the three missing men's faces. "You have been sorely missed," he stepped aside to let all his men pass by. All the soldiers dipped their heads in acknowledgment to him as they headed to the stables.

As d'Artagnan's horse began to trot past, Jean-Armand signaled for the boy to stop. Resting his hand on the lad's leg, he gazed up into d'Artagnan's face. "It went well then?"

"The only blood shed was that of a guard not willing to open his mouth," d'Artagnan shrugged. "Just a wound to his shoulder, nothing more serious than that."

"Am I going to find _their_ story interesting?" Jean-Armand wondered what was behind the boy's sudden bout of amusement as d'Artagnan's eyes twinkled with what could only be described as unholy glee. "Perhaps I should rephrase that," Jean-Armand amended. "Will I _believe_ it?

"I will leave that for you to decide upon," patting Zad's mane, d'Artagnan winked at Jean-Armand as he pulled away to follow the others.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Jean-Armand kept the youngster in view until d'Artagnan disappeared inside the stable. Heading back to his office, he tried to remember where he kept his flask of whiskey hidden. Something told him he may have need of it.


	30. Chapter 30

_Same day, mid morning - Captain Treville's office_

Drumming his fingers on his desk, Treville studied the three men standing at attention. Since their arrival none of them would look him directly in the eye. The floor took full advantage of their stumbling explanations for the debacle their last mission turned out to be, resulting in their capture.

"Gents, I'm sure the _floor_ is quite bored by now so if you would be so kind as to do me the courtesy of focusing your attention on me," he sighed, "perhaps we could move past all of this."

Athos noticed the smirk first that appeared on Treville's face. It didn't bode well for them he thought and speculated what was behind it. Not being able to bear that look any longer, Athos stared at a point past the captain's shoulder. Staring at the walls, Athos wondered if they had always been that dull shade of grey.

"I wonder if you men realize you're now in d'Artagnan's debt," Treville chuckled, noting the shamefaced looks gracing the inseparable's faces. "Louis is still paying through the nose to the boy," he said with much amusement. "Don't know what you three could offer the lad on a Musketeer's pay," glancing at Athos he grinned. "Well perhaps Athos could."

"It was regrettable what happened," Athos remarked stiffly, daring to make eye contact with Treville again. "Upon my honor, you have my word this will never happen again."

"Ah!" Treville rolled his eyes. "Do not make promises you cannot keep," he snorted. "Now I do not believe I've taken the opportunity yet to tell all of you that I'm pleased to see you've escaped serious injury... _for once,_ " he waved his hand toward the door. "Now stop wasting my valuable time and go about your business."

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Porthos and Aramis glanced sideways at each other as they made their way down the steps.

"Could have been worse I guess," Porthos grunted and felt Aramis pat his shoulder in sympathy. They both watched as a disgruntled Athos brushed past them once they hit the bottom. "He ain't happy with what went down."

"Nor with me," Aramis murmured low. He really needed to talk with Athos, clear the air between them. During their time traveling back to the garrison, Aramis could literally feel the man's disappointment in him. Jogging to catch up to his friend, Aramis caught Athos by the arm. "You do know I'm sorry for my actions back in Aquitaine?"

As Athos observed how guilt-ridden Aramis appeared, he thought about his own past behavior and knew he was not one to cast the first stone at anybody else. "We can discuss it over a bottle of wine tonight at my place," Athos smiled warmly at his brother as he tried to show Aramis that he was truly over his anger with him.

"Just one bottle?" Aramis grinned, knowing very well it would take more than that to satisfy the man. Though it was true that Athos had cut back a great deal since d'Artagnan appeared on the scene.

"You can bring along the other," Athos heard Porthos chortle in amusement and waited for their large friend to join them. Once Porthos did, they all walked past the other Musketeers that were either training or waiting for their own assignment. It was quite noticeable to Athos and his friends that word had spread like wild fire about their previous mission. It didn't escape their notice how whispering words and smug expressions followed their every movement.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," a familiar voice spoke from behind them.

All three men turned as one to see d'Artagnan's impish features staring back at them.

"I suppose the men that were with your rescue party couldn't wait to inform the rest of our brothers-in-arms upon what transpired on our last mission," Athos tossed out.

"I did see Osmont and Alain talking to a few of them," d'Artagnan's eyes were gleeful. "And then later there was Bernard and Robert speaking with Serge as well."

"Merde!" Porthos swore. "No wonder! If Serge has gossiped then the entire garrison knows how we botched up!"

"Nice as this is I have to catch up with Milady right now," d'Artagnan smiled at the scowls his brothers directed at him as if it were his fault. "She's been keeping an eye on Angelique's movements for me while I pulled off _your_ rescue." And with a mocking salute at the inseparables, d'Artagnan headed out past the garrison gates.

"There goes one happy whelp," Porthos watched until the lad disappeared out of sight.

"Of course _he's_ never been known to get into trouble," Athos grumbled, sarcasm lacing his voice. Then, just as they passed by a sparring match, Athos called out to Henri, who was training with Leroy, "Your form is all wrong, man!"

++++

_Outside the Court of Miracles_

"Has she succeeded yet?"

" _No hello... how are you... nice to see you looking so well?_ " Milady thought perhaps the boy left his manners back in Aquitaine.

"Apologies," d'Artagnan appeared contrite. "I was taught better than that."

"And how are _they_?"

"Embarrassed," d'Artagnan laughed, watching as Milady's eyes sparkled with an unholy light.

"I'd imagine so," she chuckled. "Poor Athos," Milady hooked her arm into d'Artagnan's as she steered him down the street. "That regal upbringing of his took a pretty hefty blow I bet."

"He'll get over it," d'Artagnan said, not concerned in the slightest in regards to Athos' feelings. "Now has Angelique twisted her husband's arm or not?"

"Not yet," she licked her lips. "Pacheco is fast losing patience with her and so am I."

He detected an angry note in her voice. Tilting his head, d'Artagnan raised a brow in question.

"I don't believe there's a shop in Paris left untouched, and I weary of trailing after Angelique as she continues to spend her money foolishly."

"Well now you won't have too," d'Artagnan undid a pouch attached to his weapon's belt and placed it in the palm of her hand. "Merci for all you've down in my absence."

"My pleasure," Milady jiggled the pouch, feeling its heavy weight. "Now if only I can find a shop that _she_ hasn't bought out yet."

"With your talents, I'm sure you can locate at least _one_ ," d'Artagnan surprised her with a light kiss on the cheek before he departed.

"What was that for?" Milady was shocked nearly speechless at the youngster's gesture.

"Always wanted a _sister_ ," d'Artagnan winked at her. About to leave he paused, noting a frown marring her pretty brow. "What?"

"Almost forgot to tell you but as we speak your duchess is currently with the Spanish ambassador."

"Guess that's my next stop then," with a nod in Milady's direction, d'Artagnan took off for the Spanish embassy.

++++

_Ambassador Don Antoinio de Mendoza y Pacheco's office_

His timing could have been better as d'Artagnan discovered that Angelique had come and gone already. But just as he stepped out from the room he was hiding in, d'Artagnan heard floorboards creaking from behind. He would come to think upon this much later that perhaps his skills had become slightly rusty during the lengthy journey back from Aquitaine, being the reason he was so easily overtaken. Because he never stood a chance as a fist coming out of nowhere slammed into his face. Staggering against the blow, d'Artagnan tried to fight off his attacker but was pistol whipped from behind by another as he fell into oblivion.

++++

Minutes or hours later, d'Artagnan didn't know which, he groggily woke up. His head pained him from where he was hit on the back of the head. Trying to work his jaw, he winced from the ache there as well. Wondering why the muscles in his arms were sore too, d'Artagnan realized it was from his awkward position. Glancing above him, d'Artagnan saw that his arms were stretched high above his head as he was hanging from a hook attached to the ceiling, which put a strain on his limbs.

Vision still blurry, d'Artagnan shook his head trying to clear it when suddenly his chin was grabbed hard by steely fingers. Staring into a pair of intense black eyes, his own narrowed on Pacheco's obvious pleasure.

"Alejandro, see the ninito Bayardo and Francisco caught prowling around," Pacheco cackled. Releasing the boy's chin, he now had the problem of how to dispose of this young intruder. 

Not about to give up any information to him, d'Artagnan thoughts strayed to his three brothers. He could hear their teasing banter inside his mind, reminding d'Artagnan that he was the one in need of rescuing now. The irony of the situation actually brought a smile to his lips.

"You find your predicament amusing do you?" Pacheco figured this youngster could possibly be a street urchin from the Court of Miracles. If so then no one would miss him if he never turned up again. Grinning, Pacheco held a finger up in front of the boy's face. "Soon, I think, you won't have anything to _smile_ about," with that threat left hanging in the air, Pacheco and Alejandro left the room.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mention of torture but nothing is actually depicted.
> 
> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace_

Finishing a delivery to the palace for Captain Treville, Athos was staring at the ground not really paying attention to his surroundings as he headed for the exit. So it came as no surprise that he missed seeing his ex-wife and nearly caused her an injury when Athos harshly bumped into her, making Anne stagger back nearly losing her footing.

"Bien," Anne glared at him. "I've heard of knocking a woman off her feet but doing it in this manner is beyond the pale," she finished frostily.

"Apologies," Athos winced at the acidity of her tone, "my mind was elsewhere."

"Evidently it wasn't where it should have been," Anne huffed and made to go past him but stopped at the hesitant touch of Athos' hand on her arm.

"Where is d'Artagnan?" he dared to ask, despite her anger at him. "Did he not meet up with you as he told us he would?"

"Oui," she grinned at him, tossing the heavy purse of coins up and down in her palm. "We had a pleasant transaction."

Ignoring her precious payment that Anne made it a point to show him, Athos frowned. "Did he not come back with you then?"

"Non," she shook her head, flinging back her long, wavy hair. "As soon as I told him Angelique was still inside the Spanish Embassy he couldn't get there fast enough."

"Merci," Athos tipped his hat, still deep in thought. The boy had certainly proved capable of taking care of himself, especially after pulling off their rescue in such a splendid fashion. So Athos should push his worries aside. Still, that niggling voice in the back of his head wouldn't let his mind find peace.

"D'Artagnan will be fine," Anne wasn't sure why she felt the need to reassure him but old feelings die hard and most of hers were all wrapped up in the past in regards to Athos.

"Again, my thanks," Athos left her standing there staring at his back while he headed for Treville's office.

++++

_Spanish Embassy_

"Has he talked?" Pacheco stood in front of the unconscious boy and waited for his man to answer.

"Todavia no," Alejandro replied as he held a hot branding iron in his hand.

Eyeing the assortment of burnt flesh on display, Pacheco turned away from the sight, wrinkling up his nose at the smell. "When he awakens use the whip next."

"It appears this boy's back has already been kissed by it once before," Alejandro commented as he stepped aside for the ambassador to take a look at.

"Mmmmm," Pacheo noted as he traced a pattern of healed scar tissue on the young man's back. It was somewhat puckered in certain areas but for the most part the stripes had faded. He wondered what this boy had done to deserve the punishment and then grinned to himself. "Then he will know what to expect, si?" he chuckled as he walked out of the room.

++++

_Garrison, Captain Treville's office_

"There is no good reason that d'Artagnan shouldn't have come back by now," Athos said, dread filling him at what this could possibly mean.  "As I was leaving the palace I heard one of the cardinal's Red Guards conversing with another. They both were talking about the duchess. It seems she had arrived back at the palace over a half an hour ago from her rendezvous with Pacheo." Athos stood stiffly with his arms folded staring hard into his captain's concerned face. Athos had already informed him of d'Artagnan's meeting with Milady and consequently the lad's visit to the embassy thereafter.

"I can't send men to the ambassador's door without a valid reason. If the man cries foul and it reaches Louis' ears there may be hell to pay for all of us," Treville ran a hand down the side of his face, slumping in his chair.

"Let us simply tell Pacheo that we believe a dangerous criminal to be on the loose and we were told he went inside their embassy. This way we would be able to enter the building without any trouble." Athos waited to see if his suggestion would satisfy Treville.

"That could work," Treville mused. "Then again, Pacheo could refuse you access, letting his own men search instead."

'Not if Aramis and I are the distraction," Athos grinned devilishly.

"Ah!" Treville smirked. "And so Porthos will somehow make his way inside, eh?"

"Mon frere learned many things from living in the Court," Athos arched his brow, "as you can attest too."

"All right," Treville stood up. "Just you three..." he wasn't quite finished when Athos took off for the door. Shouting out, "Do try not to cause a _war_ while you're at it!" Treville dropped back down into his chair, "If that's even possible," he muttered into his hands covering his face.

++++

_Spanish Embassy_

"I couldn't find em'," Porthos whispered in Aramis' ear. The latter had backed away a pace, leaving Athos to deal with Pacheo's guards alone. So when Porthos re-joined them, Aramis tried to appear as everything was normal.

Athos came striding over after speaking with yet another of Pacheo's men. He had already spoken to at least three of the guards already and nothing to show for it but a deuce of a headache. He could tell how miserable Porthos was feeling just by looking into the man's dark eyes. His own stomach dropped at his friend's expression, fearing the worst. "Of course they told me they'd handle their own search," Athos shrugged unconcerned for the moment, "which of course was what we thought to begin with. I should have let it drop at that, but I tried to reason with them to no avail. Just to make it look good." Canting his head to the side, Athos glanced back at Porthos. "Anything?"

"If d'Art's in there he's well hidden," Porthos wished he had better news for he could see Athos was taking the whelp's disappearance hard. They all were, but he and Aramis could see the growing closeness between their eldest and youngest. If anything tragic were to happen to the lad, Porthos doubted Athos could recover from it.

Removing his hat, Athos ran a hand through his hair. "There's one other possibility," Athos noted he had both of his friend's attention again, "the boy could be in the basement."

"I didn't have time ta get that far," Porthos thought he should have moved faster, covered more ground. Perhaps then they'd of had their whelp back instead of coming up with another strategy.

"Perhaps we could return later when they have all hit the sack," Aramis suggested. He too had a gut feeling that something was badly wrong or it could be he was just channeling Athos' feelings which were becoming quite transparent.

"Aramis, the sentries will still be on duty," Athos pointed out, starting to feel desperate now for any idea that would work in their favor.

"It'll be dark soon right?" Porthos' glance bounced back and forth between his two brothers. His brown eyes held a mischievous light as Porthos winked at them. "They won't know what hit em'."

++++

_Past midnight, Spanish Embassy again_

"The guards?" Aramis hissed in question to his larger brother.

"C'est pas ce que vous faire c'est la facon que vous faire il," Porthos whispered back with a quiet chuckle. "Them ain't wakin' up any time soon I can promise you that."

"Bien fait," Athos signaled for them to enter the back way. With the guards out of commission it was easy for them to gain access in the rear. Since Porthos had already searched the rooms above, Athos guided his brothers to the lower level of the building where there were numerous rooms, all with barred windows on their doors.

There were no other guards on duty down here which made it much easier for the three Musketeers to freely search. They were only there a scant few minutes when sounds of moaning reached their ears.

Waving Porthos and Athos over, Aramis pointed toward the back end of the passage they had just covered. Following the sounds they stopped in front of the last room and tried the door which wouldn't budge, of course, because it was locked. Shouldering Athos out of the way, Porthos put all his muscle into breaking it down. With his brothers behind him, they didn't glimpse their first sight of d'Artagnan. So when Porthos swore viciously Athos and Aramis rushed past him to aid their young one.

Blood pooled around the boy's feet which barely touched the ground since d'Artagnan was dangling from chains. Noting the lashing d'Artagnan had endured, that explained much of the blood away. Athos was sickened by the sight of the raw burns covering most of the lad's chest, which too were bleeding. "Aramis," Athos choked up as his throat constricted, not being able to say another word.

"It's too dangerous to tend to these wounds here," Aramis was, for once, glad their pup was unconscious. The pain would be unbearable for d'Artagnan if he were to awaken now.

"We need a key ta unlock these damn chains!" Porthos looked about the room, as did Athos, finally Porthos spotted a ring of keys hanging off a hook on the wall. Grabbing it he threw them over to Athos who in turned set d'Artagnan free. As the boy fell bonelessly into Athos' careful hold, he tenderly cradled the child to his chest as he led the way out of this cell.

"Pacheo has bitten off way more than he can chew now," Porthos growled as he followed behind Aramis. Knowing the king will want retribution for the abuse of his ward, Porthos had to wonder what form it would take.

++++

_Royal Palace_

Racing down to d'Artagnan's room, Louis threw open the doors as he entered with his wife and Jean-Armand closely following. He shut his eyes at the sight that greeted him of d'Artagnan's injuries that were exposed to his view. The palace physician and Aramis were working in tandem to attend to his ward.

"Why is d'Artagnan turned onto his side in that manner?" Anne asked in a bewildered voice. It seemed a most uncomfortable position to be in she thought.

"Because, Your Majesty, his back is nearly as bad as his front," Porthos interjected gruffly.

Louis and Jean-Armand joined the men on the other side of the lad's bed. This way they both could see the rest of the damage inflicted on d'Artagnan.

"Mon dieu!" Jean-Armand moaned. "Not again!"

"Unfortunately," Athos' voice was grim, "this time it's much worse."

"What was done to his chest?" King Louis glanced at his lieutenant.

"Burn marks but what was used on him to do it I don't have the answer too," Aramis explained instead while handing the doctor a clean towel to remove more of the blood weeping from the whip marks they were dealing with.

Wanting to hold the boy close to comfort him but yet knowing he couldn't do so, Athos was filled with frustration. What he did know was that when the time came Athos wanted to be the one to deal with the Spanish scum behind this.

++++

_Notes:_

_Bien fait_ \- means well done in French

French proverb/saying:  _C'est pas ce que vous faire c'est la facon que vous faire il_ \- English equivalent: it is not what you do it is the way that you do it.

 _Todavia no_ \- means not yet in Spanish

 _Si_ \- is Yes in Spanish


	32. The Finale!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, parting is such sweet sorrow... but this is the end. LOL! I never meant for this series to get so long, but there it is... or was.  
> Anyway, thanks again for all the comments, kudos and encouragement and even suggestions given to me during this long run.  
> Hope everyone likes the ending.
> 
> ++++

_Same night, Royale Palace – d’Artagnan’s room_

Watching Doctor Facet and Aramis caring for d’Artagnan, Louis was sick to his soul at the horrible atrocities performed on him. He admitted to himself that logically this could have happened to any of his Musketeers but since it was done to someone whom he has treated like a family member it cut him to the quick.

His Musketeers had informed him of where the youngster had been kept prisoner. Louis' eyes turned to ice as he stared at the burns on the lad’s chest that still weeped blood and observed Aramis tenderly removing the dark, crusted areas. Lips tightening in displeasure, Louis’ fists kept clenching and unclenching as if he would have liked to have choked the life from Pacheco if he had been fortunate enough to have the ambassador in front of him. Knowing who was responsible was the least of his worries right now though. He could deal with Pacheco whenever he liked, which would be quite soon once he knew d’Artagnan would be well. It was Philip that concerned Louis the most, knowing that after he exacted his revenge there perhaps could be repercussions between France and Spain. But when Louis pointed out the fact that he had concrete proof that Philip’s Spanish ambassador tried to conspire with French nobles for Philip’s cause he doubted Anne’s brother would lift a finger, at least not for now, to save Pacheco's worthless life. “Jean-Armand,” Louis caught at the other’s arm, pulling him to his side. “I’m going to draft a letter to King Philip informing him of what has happened to my ward and forewarning him of what my retribution will entail." He grimaced in distaste watching the men move the boy carefully from side to side, treating the numerous injuries marring the child’s torso and back. “I could start a war simply over the abuse d’Artagnan has suffered.”

“You would have good grounds for one,” Jean-Armand agreed, but worried over a war looming over France much sooner than even he expected. “The boy already found out that the duchess was trying to turn her husband into a traitor to France,” he had to turn away from the scene before him as Jean-Armand’s stomach churned at the sight. “That’s proof enough that Pacheco was working under orders from King Philip, trying to wean your favorites over to his side.”

“I’m going to make sure my letter is clear and concise so that there is no misunderstanding of my intentions toward Philip’s damn ambassador!” Louis glanced over at Anne who was doing her best to keep up royal appearances but even he could see how distraught she was over d’Artagnan. Every now and then a tear slipped down her cheek making him want to go to her side immediately and brush it away.

“I’ve sent a squad of Musketeers to the embassy to arrest Pacheco immediately,” Jean-Armand shook his head. “Of course he had no idea d'Artagnan was even a Musketeer and he'll use that as a valid argument I'm quite sure," Jean-Armand remarked dryly.

“It doesn’t absolve the man of the treatment he dealt the lad!” Louis lashed out. “Besides if Pacheco presses the issue I’ll tell him I have the right to keep tabs on him when Spain seeks to use my friends against me.” To which Louis noted Jean-Armand simply nod in agreement.

Ignoring what the men were discussing, Anne had only one thought in her mind. "Will d’Artagnan be well?” she exclaimed anxiously, not being able to hold her fear back any longer while standing at the foot of d’Artagnan’s bed.

“He has developed a slight fever but it’s manageable at this point,” Doctor Facet kindly told her.

“As for his wounds,” Aramis noted Her Majesty wringing her hands, “the burns actually appear worse than they are,” he lightly shrugged. “Circumstances would have been more dire if we hadn’t rescued the pup when we did.”

“I believe this is bad enough,” Queen Anne snapped.

“What Aramis is trying to convey,” Athos cautiously broke in, “was that we were able to get our youngest out of the embassy the same time d’Artagnan received his wounds," he smiled warmly at her. "Any later and d'Artagnan's health would have been indeed in jeopardy."

“I apologize,” Queen Anne lowered her eyes, “I should have realized that.”

“Now, now, ma chere,” Louis went to stand beside his wife, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, Louis squeezed her shoulders gently. “D’Artagnan’s a strong lad. Remember he survived Jehan’s whipping?”

Pushing against Louis’ chest, Anne pulled back to glare at him. “You would have to remind me of that.”

Pulling his lips into a frown, Louis dipped his head. “Apologies for bringing that matter up.”

Placing her fingertip upon her husband’s lips, Anne smiled. “You are forgiven.”

Now breaking up that intimate moment, though they were surrounded by everyone, the next thing anyone knew was the entrance of a woman clearly in an agitated state. When all heads turned her way, she had the grace to blush as she rushed to the boy's bed.

“I just heard the news,” Milady looked at everyone’s serious expressions as they turned her way and her stomach plummeted. “Is d’Artagnan going to be all right?”

“Milady,” Treville approached her, taking her arm and pulling her toward where Athos stood, “as you can see the lad’s being attended too.”

“I feel badly that I didn’t follow the boy into the embassy once I told d’Artagnan that Angelique was inside,” Milady lowered her gaze to the floor. “All I could think upon was that confounded money burning a hole in my pocket that the boy had paid me with.” Her green eyes were bright with unshed tears as she stared at Athos who stood silently beside her. “And after I promised I would look after d'Artagnan too.”

Hearing the remorse in her tone and how his ex-wife appeared to genuinely care for d'Artagnan's welfare, Athos thought perhaps Anne had developed a heart after all. But her _heart_ was not for him, not any longer. The past, as far as he was concerned, was dead and gone... buried with memories of how Thomas stabbed him in the back. Still, perhaps they could become friends again. At least that would be less wearing on his own heart.

“Do not beat yourself up over it,” Porthos said, trying to make her feel better. “The whelp keeps remindin’ us he can take care of himself and so we take it for granted that d'Artagnan can,” his dark eyes slid toward the prone form of their pup, “just like this last time.”

“Oui,” Athos nodded. “Especially after he just rescued our hides in such a spectacular fashion back in Aquitaine.” He noticed Aramis and Porthos trying very hard to not be embarrassed over that last mission. "Who would have thought the pup would have needed our skills to pull his irons out of the fire."

"I...," d'Artagnan finally roused himself enough that he had heard that last part of Athos' comment, "I wasn't...," he licked his dry lips together, "exactly at the," he coughed a little bit, "top of... my game," he sighed and looked longingly at the cup of water sitting all by its lonesome on top of his night stand. Pointing toward it, d'Artagnan saw Aramis immediately clutch the cup and hold it in his hand for d'Artagnan to take a sip out of. While Aramis shifted d'Artagnan up, as best he could without aggravating his injuries, the medic cradled the back of d'Artagnan's head while he managed to drain the cup dry. Turning puppy eyes on him d'Artagnan asked for more. "I promise not to get sick on it if I could have another cup." He noticed Aramis' eyes crinkle up in the corners as the older man smiled back at him.

"What cha mean ya weren't at the top of your game?" Porthos tilted his head to the side studying the whelp. He was happy the lad finally joined the land of the living but didn't get the meaning behind his words.

"I had a mission to accomplish and focused all my attention on getting you three out of Aquitaine relatively unscathed," d'Artagnan held out his hand for another cupful of water but this time Aramis shook his head at him. Pouting, d'Artagnan gingerly moved back onto his side once more while his mobile fingers played with the edges of his blanket. "The lengthy trip back and forth along with my worries on your accounts," he locked gaze with Athos. "I let my guard down... relaxed too much," d'Artagnan moved his shoulders under his coverings as if he shrugged. "When I went to see Milady," he glanced up at her since she stood by the edge of his bed frowning, "I was too excited to discover Angelique was still in the embassy. Otherwise I would have been more careful."

"Last time I noticed," Porthos' rough voice deepened as he listened to the boy tell everyone he was at fault, "ya don't have eyes in the back of that noggin of yours."

"And therein lies the problem," d'Artagnan risked a glance at Louis. "I had been contemplating this for awhile now and after this," he tried to sit back up and this time Athos carefully helped him while trying not to place his hands on d'Artagnan's back, "I have an announcement to make." His eyes roamed the room and not seeing the man he was thinking about with them, d'Artagnan continued. "Since everyone's here but Cardinal Richelieu someone will have to inform him later of my decision as this may have an impact on him as well," as soon as he mentioned His Eminence's name d'Artagnan heard the inseparables groan. Porthos rolled his eyes as well, making d'Artagnan chuckle but that ended up hurting his chest which was on fire still from the torture he had undergone. "Louis, I think I am going to put aside my lone spying days and other pursuits that I usually do for you and sometimes the cardinal." He looked proudly upon his brothers that had saved his life. "I've decided to simply be a full-time Musketeer instead."

"I see nothing wrong in that," Louis nodded with a smile. "You still could make use of your skills for us while serving with your brothers, d'Artagnan."

"True," d'Artagnan agreed. "But this time I'll have them watching my back if need be. My lone wolf days are over."

Stepping forward, Athos tugged on the boy's foot underneath the blanket. "I for one am extremely pleased to hear that."

"As am I," Aramis grinned. Throwing a look over his shoulder at Porthos who was smiling from ear to ear.

"Yeah, runt," Porthos placed his big hand on top of the whelp's head, "music to my ears." Then he bent down and whispered to d'Artagnan, "But you and I can still run and jump off of Paris' best rooftops when ya can't sleep."

Amusement danced in d'Artagnan's tired eyes at his brother's suggestion. "I'll look forward to it."

"You should shoot me," Milady offered, actually pulling out a small pistol from her belt and handing it to the younger man.

Bemused and bewildered, d'Artagnan could only stare at the weapon that she now placed in his hands. Handing it back to her, he smiled sadly. "I'm sure at one time Athos may have wanted to use it on you," he risked a glance at the man and saw that Athos was actually trying not to laugh, "but I certainly do not care too."

"I let you down," Milady said softly.

"If I had wanted or needed your help that night I would have asked it of you," d'Artagnan watched as her features started to relax. "I did neither and so you are blameless on what befell me."

"Speaking upon that," Louis interrupted, "d'Artagnan, I'm going to draft a letter to Philip informing him of the transgressions against you by his man," he held up his hand as Louis could see d'Artagnan wanting to say something to that. "This way Philip cannot say I didn't warn him," his eyes narrowed, taking in again the wounds covering his ward. "Pacheco will die for what he has done to you. It matters not that he didn't wield the whip that marred your back nor the branding instrument that caused your burns. It was under his orders alone that those hellish things were done to you."

"In other words, d'Artagnan," Jean-Armand said, "Philip will understand how close to war his ambassador nearly brought Spain too," he looked about the room at everyone gathered. "We all know that sooner or later war will happen but I doubt Philip is prepared for that just yet."

"He should be pleased I'm not considering it _right now_ ," Louis snapped. "But if Philip keeps his wits about him," Louis grinned slyly, "he'll keep his mouth shut."

"I care not the fate of Pacheco any longer," d'Artagnan waved his hand in the air, "do with him what you will. But I am curious as to that of Angelique's."

"Don't tell me ya fell for that trollop after all this?" Porthos grunted, ruffling d'Artagnan's hair while he was at it.

"Non," d'Artagnan peeked up through his bangs at everyone. "But she was being unfaithful to France by trying to coerce her husband into turning against his country."

"I'm not going to do anything to her," Louis told him. "But I will band her from ever entering a foot in Paris again or she would be forfeiting her very life."

"Is that all?" d'Artagnan was surprised. "I do not understand."

"I have actually been busy while you've been tiresomely unconscious," Louis chuckled as the boy rolled his eyes back at him. "Victor and I had rather a lengthy conversation over what his wife has been trying to do behind his back," he laughed. "To say Victor was upset would be putting it mildly."

"Oui," Jean-Armand chuckled, glancing fondly at d'Artagnan. "I hear a _divorce_ is now in the works. Which in Angelique's case would be worse than being banned from Paris."

This brought a bark of laughter from d'Artagnan but then it ended quickly as he had everyone concerned when d'Artagnan began to groan pitifully. "Apologies, I ended up hurting my chest again."

"I believe d'Artagnan should be resting," Anne suggested with an arch of her brow toward Louis.

"You are the only person I know who can wrap up an order so prettily," d'Artagnan smiled at her as Anne placed a loving kiss on top of his head.

While everyone filed out of the room with promises of returning the next day, d'Artagnan's eyes followed Aramis', Porthos' and Athos' figures since they were the last to leave. But then they paused near the door, turned around and stood at the foot of his bed. All wore expressionless faces which started to make d'Artagnan nervous.

"Life at the garrison would never have been the same if you had not recovered," Athos admitted, nearly crushing the life out of his hat that he held in a vicelike grip.

"Who would I have had ta tease, whelp," Porthos' dark eyes twinkled.

"And I would have had no one who listens so attentively to me as I pass on my knowledge to them as you do, pup," Aramis winked at the lad.

Tearing up, d'Artagnan turned his face away until he felt a gentle hand on the side of his face turning his head back. His eyes were closed but at that moment slowly opened to stare into the warm, blue eyes of Athos.

"I would have missed my petit frere more than I could ever acknowledge," Athos bent down to place his lips on d'Artagnan's forehead. "Sleep well and heal fast," he smiled. "Otherwise I'm stuck with just these two idiots for company."

"Hey!" Porthos yelled out. "What kind a talk is that?" He could have cheerfully wrung Athos' neck.

Throwing his arms around both his brother's shoulders Aramis glanced back at the boy again, a huge grin splitting his face. "I think, mon amis, tis time for us to take our leave. The poor child needs as much rest as he can get if he is to put up with us for all time."

Trying not to laugh anymore for the ache that it would cause him, d'Artagnan listened as Porthos got mad at Aramis for his remark.

"Were we just insulted," Porthos turned to look at Athos with a question in his eyes, the latter simply shrugged a shoulder at him. Glaring at Aramis, Porthos lifted his fist. "I think ya just insulted me."

"Ah, Porthos," Aramis tisked, "you misunderstand me, mon frere."

"Yeah, well there's been plenty of times where I've misunderstood ya before... _mon frere_ ," Porthos responded sarcastically.

"Gentlemen," Athos grumbled, "leave this for another day." His hand on the door, Athos was the last to close it but poked his head back inside to make sure d'Artagnan was settled down for the night. Seeing the rise and fall of the lad's shoulders told him that the boy was still laughing at their antics. "Night, sweet garcon," he whispered. And as the door quietly closed behind him, Athos heard the youngster murmur back... _I love you too_.

The End


End file.
